


The Price of Love

by OnarchyAnarchy



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxiety, D/s, Depression, Drug Use, Eating Disorders, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, F/M, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Non-binary character, Physical Abuse, Polyamory, Power Imbalance, Prostitution, Rape/Non-con Elements, Slow Burn, Smut, Unhealthy Relationships, Verbal Abuse, Violence, google translated french
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-10-10 19:37:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10445868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnarchyAnarchy/pseuds/OnarchyAnarchy
Summary: John Lauren is dragged to a new bar by his roommate and forever crush Hercules Mulligan where they mutually drool over the French bartender. All three are enamored by Alexander Hamilton but Alexander knows his affections should not stray from his King and those under his reign.Eventually poly between Alex/John/Herc/Laf





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Hold Me Down](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6122527) by [AlexanderPeterson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexanderPeterson/pseuds/AlexanderPeterson). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This is my first fanfic for Hamilton. I'm going to do my best to update regularly, but I'm a full time nursing student and a single mother so my time is limited and I usually like to nap when I have five minutes. That being said! I'm going to try. 
> 
> This fic was inspired by Hold Me Down by AlexanderPeterson, which is fantastic. Go read it if you haven't. 
> 
> I am trying my hand at writing Laf as non-binary. If I am not doing that justice or offending someone or doing it incorrectly, please let me know so that I can fix it. 
> 
> I am also using google translate for French because I know two languages: English and sarcasm. I'll post translations at the bottom. If this offends anyone, I am so sorry.
> 
> Please be aware this fic will contain some unpleasant things. I'll try and tag as I go to let you know. 
> 
> As a warning: there is a very abusive established relationship. There will be rape/non-con, physical, verbal, emotional abuse, drug use, prostitution, depression, anxiety. 
> 
> I should have these tagged but if I don't or if I am missing something major please let me know so that I can fix it. If any of theses things bother you, please exit stage left. Don't put yourself through anything for the sake of reading. Otherwise, buckle up! Were in for some ride.

John Laurens did not see his world turning upside down by just entering a bar and ordering a pint of Sam Adams. He entered multiple bars in a month, helping support the local businesses around with his need of a stress relief and alcohol. None of those bars had ever changed his life so thoroughly. It was all Hercules Mulligan’s fault truly. He had convinced John to check out this bar he had gone to a few times now, wanting him to check out this new bartender he was seriously crushing on, which no did not break John’s heart to hear, just stung a little bit. Okay maybe more than a little but he could not dwell on it long, remembering it was better to have Hercules’ friendship than nothing.

It was around nine when John got around to getting to the bar. Of course, Hercules had to pick the one day John was coming off a twelve-hour shift in the emergency room. Though, in Herc’s defense, there were only few days when John wasn’t coming off a twelve-hour shift. His back was sore and feet ached but a beer did sound nice. The outside of the building was faded red bricks encasing a dark red door that looked, just _looked_ , heavy to open. A bright neon red sign above the door read _Reign_ in loopy scroll. John pushed passed a few patrons that were milling about outside smoking to where a bouncer, a scary looking guy in a well fitted red coat, took his ID and looked him over before allowing him to pass.

As John entered, after pushing open the very heavy door, he was hit by loud music and the heat of many bodies. The bitter cold of the outside melted off him as escorted himself towards the bar upstairs where Hercules said he would be waiting for him. It was a two-floor building, maybe three but John couldn’t quite tell, decorated in shades of red, gold and black. Couches, overstuffed chairs, and a few high tables were already occupied throughout the establishment and the rest of the floor space was taken up by causally swaying bodies to the upbeat music blasting through the speakers. The upstairs was a little less crowded, not by much, but John did not have to shove his way through bodies to move about. Cozy looking booths lining the walls and balcony overlooked to lower floor.

John spotted Hercules’ large frame hunched over the bar, talking animatedly with one of the bartenders. John stalled a second, taking in the lovely bartender with his curls tied up tightly and a bright grin on his flawless face. Laurens’ noted the eyeliner and perfectly done contouring that enhanced his beauty. He was tall and built, not as massive as Hercules, but still radiated strength. He wore bright red tank top with the logo of the bar that looked like it was painted on, highlighting each contour of his muscles that made John’s mouth start to water. John could easily see why his roommate was so infatuated with this bartender. At the current moment, so was John.

He slid onto the bar stool and Hercules turned to look at him, smiling widely at him in recognition. John’s heart fluttered at that smile, wide with pearly white teeth. Hercules wore his favorite beanie, one that John had gotten him three years ago for Christmas, hiding the closely shaven hair. His blue t-shirt was stretched across his broad frame and his dark eyes were smiling just a brightly as his actual smile. John could tell he was already buzzed, probably have been siting there for two hours or so. “Laurens! Thanks for finally joining me, man!” Herc’s large hand came down on his shoulder, squeezing with fondness. “Thought you were gonna ditch me again.”

“Nah, never man. I got a little held up with a gunshot that walked in five minutes before my shift was supposed to be done,” he told his friend, thinking back to the idiot who decided to put a loaded handgun into the pocket of his jeans and then precede to forget it was there. “Lucky for me, Peggy said she’d take him for me.”

“Peggy Schuyler, by chance?” the bartender asked, wiping down a glass. John felt his heart stutter at the French accent that the man spoke with, falling a little harder for him.

“You know Pegs?” The smile on the man’s face got even larger.

“Who doesn’t know Peggy? I love the Schuylers. They are _sont magnifiques, non_?”

“I have to agree with you,” replied John, flickering a curl out of his face. “I’m John Laurens, by the way.”

The bartender reached his hand across, John shook it, delighting in the feeling of the former's hand dwarfing his own. “ _Je m'appelle Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette_. But you can call me Lafayette or Laf. I’ll answer to either.”

“You should hear their full name,” the other bartender butted in as he reached passed Lafayette to grab a certain bottle of vodka. John made note of the gender neutral pronouns he used when referring to Lafayette. The other bartender looked very similar to Lafayette; a little shorter and maybe a tad broader. His skin tone a few shades lighter. His curls were let loose, springing gentle from his head. While Lafayette had a more feminine edge to them, the second bartender did not. However, there was general likeness between the two. “I’m Thomas and let me know if I can get you anythin’ if Laf doesn’t start doin’ their job soon.”

Lafayette rolled their eyes, shooting off something at Thomas who replied just as fluently, his accent slightly off due to his natural southern drawl. John knew some french but he was hardly fluent. 

“Hey, not all of us speak French,” Hercules butted in. “I’ll take another Guinness if either of you wishes to help out a paying customer.”

“Do not get your, how you say, panties in a twist, Mulligan,” Laf teased, reaching for a frosted glass. “Laurens, may I get you anything?”

“Sam Adams if you have it.”

“ _Oui_ , coming right up _monsieur_.”

“So how did you stumble upon this place?” John asked Hercules, thanking Lafayette when they placed his beer down in from him.

“Remember Caleb? Brewster? Yeah well we were stumbling along already a few in, you know how we can get, and ended up sitting right here talking the ear off Lafayette here until closing,” he explained.

“You poor thing,” John said to Lafayette, faking pity, laughing when Hercules pushed him almost off his bar stool.

“Believe me, I do not know how I survived,” replied Lafayette, dramatically sighing.

“Bite me, me the both of you!”

“Anytime, _mon amour_ ,” Lafayette quipped back, blowing a kiss. “You can join in too Laurens,” they added, throwing a wink his way.

John was about to reply, loving a good banter over beer, especially with someone as hot as Lafayette when a loud “Hercules!” cut him off. Somehow the voice as able to project itself over the music, catching the trio’s attention. John turned look behind him where a small boy was walking toward them, almost skipping. If John was stunned by Lafayette, he was floored now. How did God put all of these beautiful humans all in one spot? It was not fair nor was it allowing John to breathe properly. The stranger’s skin was the color of caramel and his hair cascaded passed his shoulders in ebony locks. His eyes were indescribable and John could not stop staring, entranced. His tank top with the bar’s logo hung off him, as if it really had no purpose on his body, giving everybody around him an eyeful of his petite frame. A pair of black short that should not be allowed in public clung to his ass like a second skin, making John slightly uncomfortable in his jeans as they tightened.

John did not know who was more beautiful: Hercules, Lafayette, or this newest stranger.

The boy squealed again before placing the three bottles of tequila he was carrying on the bar before throwing himself at Hercules, wrapping his thin arms around the bigger man before nuzzling his face into Herc’s neck like they were old lovers. John turned to see Lafayette’s reaction, as the sudden display of affection stunned him, but Laf just had a tender smiled on their face as he watched. John had thought Hercules was into Lafayette as he had been going on and on about French native non-stop but here was this random barely dressed stranger in his roommate’s lap, embracing like they were two seconds away from getting a private room.

Hercules laughed before wrapping his own arms around the smaller boy’s frame. “Alexander, I didn’t know you were here tonight.”

Alexander hummed. “We just arrived. Someone said the upper bar was short a few bottles and I couldn’t help but come see my favorite French bartender. _Bonjour mon coeur, je t'ai manqué_.”

“ _Bonjour mon petit chéri_ ,” they said sweetly in return. “ _Chéri_ , this is John Laurens, a friend of Hercules.”

Alex’s dark eyes met John’s and John was not sure how to react. Before, John was entranced by his beauty. Closer up, John was worried by what he saw. Deep circles underneath his bright eyes, contradicting the fire that burned within them. It was if those fires burned so brightly, it charred the skin beneath. The size of his pupils concerned the health professional inside John along with his thinness as he saw how much his ribs were poking out, along with the prominence of his collar bones. Even in the dull lighting of the bar, he could see faint yellowing around his neck and down his arms, along with redness that encased his wrists that would mostly like turn into dark blue splotches shortly. He was still gorgeous, but obviously, he was not in the perfect state of health.

Alexander reached over to him without getting off Hercules’ lap, dragging his small fingers across John’s freckled cheek. “The stars fell and are burning now upon your cheeks.”

 _And a fire burns within your eyes_ , John wanted to say, as cliché as it sounded, but he was too stunned between the forwardness that Alexander was showing and his concern for his health.

“Alexander, you are making dear John blush,” Lafayette told him, trying to pull Alex’s attention from John.

“I like when pretty boys blush,” Alexander seemed to purr at John.

“Then I bet you are absolutely gorgeous when you blush,” John fired back recovering from his inability to talk, before taking a drink of his beer to help cool the fire of his face. He glanced back at Alexander who had a smile who smiled stretched across his own face like he was just bestowed the best present in the world and his eyes lit up more if that was even possible.

John was right, the blush that spread across his face made him far more gorgeous then could ever be imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> French Translations  
> Je m'appelle : My name is  
> Oui: Yes  
> Monsieur: Sir  
> Mon amour: My love  
> Bonjour mon coeur, je t'ai manqué: Hello my heart, I missed you  
> Bonjour mon petit chéri: Hello my little darling  
> Chéri: Darling


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's all hopelessly fall in love with each other and be hopelessly unhappy with the situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm excited that I got this done. 
> 
> A little warning: There is slight mention of drug use, nothing major but I just wanted to tag it. There is also my google translated French which I apologize for.
> 
> Also, this is my first time writing a non-binary character so please, if I am doing it wrong or miss a pronoun, please let me know. I'd like to do it justice. 
> 
> I have the next chapter written out because I didn't pay attention in one of lectures today. Whoops.

Lafayette was a charmer, plain and simple. It was something they had been born with, quickly latching on to the skill to get whatever they had wanted as a child. As they grew, they refined it, honing in on their silver tongue, adding in some non-verbal skills, and not to mention growing into their dashing good looks. The combination had people dropping like flies around them. They made friends effortlessly, got out of speeding tickets with ease.

When Lafayette had fallen into the serving business, as a quick way to do something other than sit around watching Netflix, they quickly put their talent to work. They were good at what they did. They easily entranced their costumers into another beer, one more cocktail, higher priced liquor all before they even realized what was happening. Their accent captured everyone’s attention. Their body was always shamelessly on display so that customers could try—and fail—to look as though they were not thoroughly checking them out. Their tips were usually a bit bigger than their co-workers, which Laf did not mind at all.

They normally never cared for the attention of their patrons, taking the flirty comments and suggestions and responding in kind, hoping that it might just end with a few extra dollars laid down on the bar at the end of the night. They usually got those few extra dollars plus a phone number that would never be called. Laf and Thomas had a running tally to see who received more numbers. So far Laf was winning with one hundred and seventeen to Thomas’ one hundred and two since the new year had started ten months prior.

However, a few weeks ago, when a hunk of a man who dared to call himself Hercules Mulligan had drunkenly sat down at their bar with his equally drunk friend, Lafayette easily fell quickly for the man. The man’s bright smile and handsome face made Laf’s heart flutter every time they got glimpse. Those large hands that covered much of the pint glass, made Laf wonder what they would feel like on their own skin, possessively spread over their hips or digging into their thighs. They laid on the charm thickly and Hercules responded in kind. Lafayette had to have done something right, as Hercules kept coming back, but no number had been left, much to their disappointment. The one time they wanted one of their customers’ numbers, they were not going to get it.

Then of course, Hercules had met Alexander and had fallen head over heels with just one look. Laf could not fault him. They themselves had done it three years ago when they first met. Lafayette did not know where they could find a prettier face. They had a theory that it was his eyes that hooked everyone, one look at you eating out of Alexander’s hand. Then once he opened his mouth, his silky voice ensnared your heart and you were done for. Sure, maybe the swing of his hips helped and if he turned around no one could quite look away from his backside, his ass straining against whatever small piece of clothing Alexander chose to torture them with that day.

It was not for a few weeks after they had met Hercules that he had brought his roommate in. Laf knew many things about John Laurens before even meeting him. When Hercules wasn’t talking about Alexander, who Lafayette was always happy to chat about, he was talking about John, and how it was utterly impossible to get any of his work done at home since John refused to wear a shirt half of the time. They knew all about John’s flawless face and curls that never stayed pulled back. About his sharp tongue and short temper that usually had Hercules holding him back from some fight. About how John had a habit of falling asleep on top of Hercules whenever they were watching a show together, which led to Hercules turning into a puddle of mush because his roommate was just too adorable when he slept.

And when this glorious roommate decided to finally grace  _Reign_  with his presence, Laf finally understood Hercules troubles. His golden skin was littered with freckles. There was not a spot on his face, neck or arms that seemed to free of the tiny dots. Laf quickly wondered if the t-shirt John wore hid more from view and hoped,  _dear God did they hope_ , that they could see them up close. His tight curls that were falling out of the low bun pulled to the back of his neck made Laf want to run their fingers through them and get tangled within. Those green eyes were swirled with hazelnut and laughter, threatening to melt Lafayette into a puddle behind the bar. John was not very tall but Laf knew that he worked out consistently. From Hercules constant ramblings for John to put a shirt on so he could get some work done without drooling and the strain of the sleeve that encased John bicep made them well informed of how in shape John was. His smile was blinding and that slight southern accent made Laf’s knees weak. When he had sat down, Laf eyes had flickered to Hercules and could see him smirking at them as if to say _I told you so._

Then of course, John had met Alexander and history repeated itself one more.

“Hercules!” Their little lion had cried before hurrying to place down three bottles of tequila on the bar before jumping in the bigger man’s lap, looking ridiculously small as Hercules strong arms wrapped their way around him. Hercules looked as though he had died and gone to heaven. They looked adorable snuggled together like that and it made Laf’s heart burst.

John was obviously confused and looked a little dazed. Alexander was wearing less clothing than he normally ever did, which was enough to daze anyone, but he was sitting quite intimately with Hercules which Laf was sure was confusing him.

“Alexander, I didn’t know you were here tonight,” Hercules had said, holding onto the man tightly.

“We just arrived. Someone said the upper bar was short a few bottles and I couldn’t help but come see my favorite French bartender,” Alexander replied, turning in Herc’s lap to meet their eyes. “ _Bonjour mon coeur, je t'ai manqué._ ”

“ _Bonjour mon petit chéri_ ,” they said sweetly in return. Laf let his eyes wonder over him, taking in the yellowing of his bruises and was happy to see no recent ones had blossomed on his skin. When they met his eyes again, they noticed his pupils were blown, obviously on something which made Laf’s insides churn with worry. They did not let it show, no need to worry the little lion with their own concern. He worried enough with Laf adding to it. “ _Chéri_ , this is John Laurens, a friend of Hercules.”

They watched as Alexander’s eyes widened a fraction as they stared at John, taking in the curly hair beauty. Those dark eyes like coals of a fire lit up as the gazed at John. Laf knew that gaze well. They had seen it in his eyes when he had first met Hercules and they like to think they had saw it when they had met each other too. Alexander was expressive, not an emotion crossed his face without being easily read.

“The stars fell and are burning now upon your cheeks.” Laf almost laughed at the cheesy line Alex had spilled out, but it obviously worked on John whose cheeks brightened with a blush that seemed to reach the tips of his ears.

“Alexander, you are making dear John blush,” Lafayette replied, trying to help the flustered boy from Alex’s advances, trying not to feel jealous.

“I like when pretty boys blush,” Alexander had all but purred at the boy.

“Then I bet you are absolutely gorgeous when you blush,” John had replied before taking a quick sip of his beer. Laf did laugh then, along with Hercules. Alexander beamed at John, and Laf watched as each of them blushed heavily. What a beautiful color their skin had turned with the blood rushing to their cheeks. The blush had spread down Alexander’s chest, on display with the sorry thing he called a shirt.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this red, Alexander,” Mulligan said, still laughing as his eyes trailed down the expanse of tan skin on Alexander’s chest.

They were all hooked on the gorgeous creature, still sitting on Hercules’ lap. But unfortunately for all of them, despite Alexander’s flirty nature, he was off limits. Extremely off limits. Ever since Lafayette had met him, Alexander had been in a committed relationship, happy in what he considered to be a healthy relationship. Laf knew better than to make any moves on Alexander. They had seen the repercussions first hand. And while Laf, and to an extent, Hercules knew not to make a move on Alexander, John did not.

“Where are your partners,  _mon chou_?” Laf asked, hoping that would be enough to tell John that Alexander was off the market. “They are here with you,  _non_?”

Alexander’s eyes brighten once more and a warm smile melted onto his face. “Of course they are here! Why would I go anywhere without them?” While Alex saw it as never wanting to be without his partners, Laf knew that he was not allowed anywhere without one of them. They had been surprise to see that he had been allowed to wonder up to the bar without one of his boyfriends trailing along.

“Partners?” John questioned, and Laf’s heart ached for him as they witnessed the heartbreak in John’s eyes. His shoulders slouched down and Laf wanted to reach out and console him. They restrained themselves, just barely.

Alexander stole a sip of the beer in John’s hand, nose cringing at the bitter taste, completely ignorant to John’s inner heartbreak. Lafayette snorted, knowing all too well that Alex was not a beer person. “I have three boyfriends.”

“Alexander’s love is too much for one man.” Laf filled a glass with water before sliding it across the bar to the boy in question. “No more alcohol.”

He pouted. “ _Tu n'es pas amusant_.”

“ _Je ne sais pas ce que vous êtes, mon chou, mais vous ne le mélangez pas avec de l'alcool sur ma montre_ ,” Lafayette said, arching an eyebrow daring Alexander to even try. They had seen the boy mix whatever drugs he was on with drinking and they were not going to play a part in it tonight. They saw him falter under their gaze, not wanting to disappoint Laf.

Alexander pick up the glass, sipping slowly, mummering a low, “ _Je suis désolé_.”

“ _Je veux juste que tu sois en sécurité,_ Alexander,” Laf told him, smiling in reassurance.

“What is it with you all speaking French?” Hercules groans, burying his face into Alexander’s hair, which caused him to giggle at the sensation.

“It has its perks which I’m sure you would enjoy given the opportunity,” Laf said with a wink when Hercules looked up from the back of Alexander’s head, enjoying the way Herc’s cheeks darken. They glanced over Hercules’ shoulder noticing a blotch of distinctive _Reign_ red coming toward them. “Ah,  _mon chou_  I believe you have been gone too long.”

“Alexander.” The rest of the small group turned to see a smaller man, thin but not as quite as unhealthy looking as Alexander. His shirt, decorated with the same crown logo of the bar, fitted snuggly to his frame unlike Alexander’s. He seemed nervous almost, as he stared directly at Alexander, not letting his dark eyes stray. He was trying not to look at the bartender next to Laf, who they noticed had gone still the sound of James’ voice. Thomas seemed to lose any ability to function, which was quite normal whenever James was around.

“Jemmy!” Alex chirped as hopped off Hercules and to his side. James Madison, or Jemmy as Alexander affectionately called him, was around the same height as Alexander if not an inch or two taller. Alexander slid an arm around his waist making it quite obvious the two were close. Their bodies fit together seamlessly, falling into the memory of past embraces. Alexander kissed him softly, lingering a little. Lafayette had to look away. They tried very hard to keep the jealousy off their face as it burned inside them.

“James…” came a soft whisper from Thomas as he starred helplessly. His hands were frozen on the rag he was using to clean up a spill. Laf put a gentle hand on his arm to help ground him. It usually helped a little. While Laf was helplessly in love with Alexander, Thomas was helplessly in love with James.

James seemed to completely ignore Thomas, except for a flinch that cross his face gave him away. He focused all his attention on keeping Alexander close to him, as if to try to draw some kind of strength. “George was asking for you, said you were gone for an awfully long time.”

“I ran into Hercules and I made friends with his friend John and I didn’t mean to take so long…” Alexander almost whimpers. It broke Laf’s heart to hear such a pathetic tone come from him.

James ran a hand softly over Alexander’s hair. “Shh, come, let’s get back. I’m sure he’s not mad,” he murmured turning to pull Alexander with him, his shoulders relaxing as he did not have the temptation of looking at Thomas any longer.

Alexander turned to look back at them, a longing glaze in his eyes but it was quickly covered up. He waved before turning around and allowing James to lead him away.

Laf always felt a little empty whenever Alexander left him. The boy seemed to fill a hole in their heart that was his exact shape. When Alexander was with them, or at least in their sight, Laf knew where he was. They did not have to worry what was happening to him. They saw that he was safe and if he was hurting they could care for him, soothing whatever troubled the little lion. Lafayette’s was not feeling quite as empty as they watched Alexander walk away this time. Their heart still screamed to grab him, gather him in their arm and never let him leave but Laf was pacified a little bit due to the men in front of them. Hercules and John made it a little easier to deal with the loss of Alexander.  

Lafayette turned to Thomas once he could no longer see Alexander in the crowd. “ _Ça va, mon ami_?”

“ _Oui_ ,” came Thomas’s weak reply as he broke himself from his trance before turning away to rearrange the already perfect arranged bottles on the back shelf.

“So…” John started, green eyes flickering between him and Hercules. “Anyone want to explain to me what just happened?”

“I like to call it the Alexander Effect. _C'est approprié, non_?” Laf said, keeping an eye on Thomas but resuming the conversation with the two handsome men in front of him.

“It was like being hit with a…”

“A hurricane?” Hercules offered, laughing into his mug. “Yeah, he has that effect.”

“And the partners?” John questioned.

“Alexander is in a relationship with three other men. He’s been with them since I started here three years ago, ” Laf started. “James Madison, who you just saw, Samuel Seabury, and the owner of this bar, George King.”

“A relationship is puttin’ it loosely,” Thomas said, butting in. “It’s more like the King collected three pretty little treasures and keeps them all to himself, treating however he sees fit.”

Laf nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly with the statement. “What the King wants, the King gets.”

“And who wouldn’t want Alexander?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Bonjour mon coeur, je t'ai manqué: Hello my heart, I missed you  
> Bonjour mon petit chéri: Hello my little darling  
> Chéri: Darling  
> Mon chou: Literally means my cabbage but it's a term of endearment.  
> Non: no  
> Tu n'es pas amusant: You're not fun  
> Je ne sais pas ce que vous êtes, ma chérie, mais vous ne le mélangez pas avec de l'alcool sur ma montre: I do not know what you are on, sweetie, but you are not mixing it with alcohol on my watch.  
> Je veux juste que tu sois en sécurité, Alexander: I just want you safe, Alexander  
> Je suis désolé: I am sorry  
> Ça va, mon ami: Are you alright my friend?  
> Oui: Yes  
> C'est approprié, non?: It is fitting, no?


	3. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet the King.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this during my lecture so I looked like a good student taking down notes when I was actually writing fanfiction about gay founding fathers. Good thing my handwriting is completely illegible to others. 
> 
> Warning: Many of the tags was relevant to this chapter. Please do not read if any of those tags bother you. Abuse (physical/emotional/sexual), drug mention, and depressing thoughts are ahead. 
> 
> I'm sorry in advance.

Alexander did not mean to take so long delivering the bottles to the upper bar. He missed Lafayette, something terrible, jumping at the chance to visit them, and was surprised when George let him go by himself. He did not question it. He never questioned George’s decisions, not when was the best at making the decisions for whatever the situation called for. When Alexander reached the bar, he had gotten caught up seeing Hercules “Actual Demigod” Mulligan sitting at the bar along with his friend John Laurens. Beautiful, freckled John…

He was riding the high came with whatever it was that George had given him as a reward for being so good the past few days. It was not much, and Alexander was not even sure what it was that he was given, but enjoyed the pleasure that seemed to come with it. His body felt warm, nerve endings welcoming any and all touches. His mind felt a little buzzy, a pleasant humming that was so different from the normal chaos that seemed to reside there. Maybe it was why he sat down on Hercules’ lap, nosing at his neck, welcoming the warmth that came along with his strong body. It could also explain why he brushed his fingers across the star kissed cheeks of John Laurens, finger tips igniting with fire at the simple touch.

But James was sent to collect him, his tone sobering up Alexander’s mind just enough to register he was in trouble. George was asking what was taking so long to deliver a few bottles of tequila. Shame and guilt flooded Alexander’s system. How could he get so distracted? Caught up in his own wants and desires, only to carelessly forget about who was waiting for him. Alexander clung to Jemmy, wanting to draw strength from the man who constantly kept his fears at bay. James Madison, who been with George before Alexander joined the relationship, welcomed him was open arms when they first met. As easily as he fallen for George, he fallen for Jemmy. James was calm, level headed, and always brought a sense of peace to Alexander that he could never find on his own. They had their differences, had small fights over this or that, but they were always there for one another. While George and Sam could be upset with Alexander for days on end, James never stayed mad at him past whatever the argument was.

 _Reign_ consisted of two floors available to the general public and a third private floor made for guest who wanted to pay a little extra for a little extra privacy. George often referred to the different floors as the peasant floors and the throne room. George’s office was located on the third floor, tucked away in the corner with sound proof walls so that the pounding base from the speakers would not bother them inside. The office was extravagant, matching the taste of its owner. The walls were a dark red, darker than the rest of the building. Dark mahogany flooring lined the floor which matched the desk on the far side of the room. A large leather chair sat behind the desk, like a throne. There were two couches, both done in a red velvet and two more chairs that matched. In the center was an ottoman, with papers, bills and a laptop place on top of the red leather, forgotten about for the time being.

Samuel and George were both waiting for them. Sam was sprawled out across George’s lap, while George was running a hand down Sam’s bare back, his shirt laying discarded on the floor. Sam looked like he was asleep, his face soft, his body relaxed. Alexander remembered Sam had taken the same thing he took earlier, wondered how he could be asleep while his own body was practically buzzing. Sam’s skin was pale, maybe a few shades darker than the hand stroking his well-muscled back. His hair was short, a dark brown that always seemed to be in place, even while sleeping.

Alexander let his eyes wonder over George. He was picturesque as normal. Strong shoulders with a flat chest and stomach, all clad in a sharp black dress shirt and grey waistcoat. He admired George’s strong jaw and beautifully crafted cheekbones. His hair was a light brown, almost blonde in the right lighting. When Alexander met his eyes, he got lost for a moment in those cool pools of blue. He always got so lost within them, like he was drowning in some endless ocean, unable to surface to take another breathe. Those eyes usually shined with such love for him, warmed with praised when he behaved. But now, Alexander noticed anger swam within those eyes and he whimpered, his chest constricting with panic.

The sound of the door shutting behind James and Alexander woke Sam from his nap. He stretched and arched his back like a cat, knowing full way he was too tempting for his own good. Maybe he was trying to curb George’s anger, temping him with his own body or maybe he had no idea what was transpiring over his head. If Alexander was a betting man, he bet on the latter, knowing Sam tended to miss the bigger picture. “Lexi, your back.” His voice was rough from sleep. Normally that voice would send shivers up Alexander’s spine but right now he was too focused on the anger radiating from George.

“Yes, Alexander, so kind of you to finally join us.” George’s voice was cold, his anger and disappointment leaking through, saturating his tone. His full name from George was never a good sign. It was always Lexi, Lex or even just Alex. Never Alexander unless he disappointed him.

Words started spilling out of him, losing control over them as the panic in his chest started to grow. “Sir, I am so sorry. I did what was asked of me, taking the bottles to the upper bar. I was good, I did what was asked of me! I got caught up talking with Lafayette. They’re so friendly—and they asked me about you and Sammy and Jemmy! You know me, of course you know, you know me better than anyone in this world and I never can resist talking about the three of you. I sincerely did not mean too—”

George waved a dismissive hand, silencing him effectively. “On your knees, Alexander.”

James squeezed Alexander’s hand before letting go to sit on the far end of the couch, out of the line of fire. While James loved his boyfriend, this was not his punishment and he could not interfere with it. Sam could not either. Sam left George’s lap only to curl back up on James, squeezing tight into his side, running his hand up under his shirt. They both watched, James’s eyes sad, while Sam’s were still full of sleep. Alexander was to face this on his own.

Alexander knelt at the George’s feet the second the command came. He kept his eyes on George’s shoes, light tan Jimmy Choo’s. Alex distantly thought that those shoes costed near eight hundred dollars, if not more. He did not raise his eyes to meet George, not wanting to make the situation any worse than it already was. Normally he loved this position, love the feeling of being on his knees in front of the men he loved, giving them the pleasure they deserved, lavishing them with his tongue as they moaned above him. It was his rightful place, George like to remind him. He joked that Alexander should be living on his knees and do nothing but.

Now however, in the wake of a punishment, Alexander would much rather be curled around Jemmy with Sam or back down stairs with on Hercules lap, laughing with Laf and John….

_Where did that thought come from?_

The thought scared him, his blood running cold as that panic in his chest rose to new heights. His pulse pounded in his ears, heart racing. He tried to keep the panic from his face before George noticed he was not paying attention. He was never that lucky. George leaned forward, snaking his hand though Alexander’s long hair before grabbing a fist full of it and tugging harshly. Alex head snapped back, gasping at the pain that seared along his scalp. His eyes met George’s and the rage that been bubbling beneath the surface broke free.  

“Even now, when you are on your damn knees before me, you can’t keep your thoughts on me!” George yelled.

“I’m sorry sir!” Alexander whispered, keeping his tear-filled eyes locked on George’s, hoping he would see how sincerely sorry he was.

“You’re making me mad Alexander,” George spat, pulling harshly again eliciting another gasp of pain.

No, that is not what Alexander wanted to do. He never wanted to do that. He hated making George mad. All Alexander wanted to do was be good, so good for George. He wanted to make him smile, make him feel proud of he could. He wanted to give him every single ounce of pleasure he deserved. He did not want to be bad, he wanted to be good— _so good_.

“Alexander you’ve been so well behaved lately, what happened?” George ran a hand down Alexander’s tan cheek. “Hell, I thought I finally got through to you. I rewarded tonight even.”

“I’m trying sir, I’m trying so—” The slap across his face was unexpected. He did not see George wind his arm up to hit him. Hadn’t George’s hand just been resting on his face? George never held back his strength, this time was no different. The force of the hit spilled the tears that been lingering in his eyes. They ran down his cheeks, the left burning.

“I was not finished. Can’t even shut up to let someone else speak? Honestly Alexander, I am getting very tired of it. I’m tired of the constant, insulant talking and blatant disrespect you show me. Am I not fucking enough Alexander? What have I ever done to make you so ungrateful?” George yelled, knowing full well that no one would hear him beyond his office. His foot swiftly connected with Alexander’s ribs, knocking the air out of his already gasping lungs. Alexander coiled inward, trying to protect himself but George just pulled him back up by his hair. “I support your useless ass.” Another kick. “I feed you. I clothe you. I house you.” This time the kick landed lower, near his stomach making him groan in pain. “I give you everything you could ever need. I fucking love you endlessly and yet _it is not enough_ , you selfish, stupid whore!”

Alexander cried out when the foot connected with him again, unable to hold back any longer. His chest hurt with every breath he tried to take, he was afraid something might have been broken this time. “Please, sir,” Alex gasped through the pain, his breathing shallow. “My love for you is never in doubt. You, James, Samuel. You all are everything to me.”

“And yet, you keep us waiting while talking to your little French friend! And sitting on some other man’s lap? How could you? Did you think I would not find out? Don’t tell me you were not flirting with those boys. I know you, Alexander,” George growled, lashing out with his foot again.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Alexander kept repeating, whimpering through the pain, the guilt, the shame. Why would he have such thoughts? Why could he not be respectful? Why was he so selfish? George had taken him into a loving embrace and never asked for anything in return but for his loyalty and love. Was that so hard to give the man who gave him everything? He wanted for nothing. George helped him control his temper, worked on his patience. Grounded him when his thoughts ran away from him, loved him when the black clouds converged on his brain. He brought Sammy and Jem along with him, two beautiful humans into his life to love and cherish. He strived so hard to be like them, so perfect in every way possible. But it seemed impossible. He never would. His mouth would always run away from him and his slutty ways would always get him in trouble.

“You want to act like a little tramp? A little slut, good for nothing but your bloody poor excuse of a body?  Is that what you want? I’ll remind you who you should be worshiping.” George unfastened his pants, not pulling them down all the way, just enough so he could reveal his already hard cock.

Usually the sight of his partner like this had Alexander salivating, unable to wait to get his lips around him. But his body hurt, his breaths coming in painful rasps. He did not deserve such a treat, not when he behaved so poorly. If this was all George did to him, he would be lucky. He wanted to be good, so good for George. It’s all he ever wanted. He could make this good for George, if this is what George wanted.

Alexander was dragged closer by his hair, his hands falling onto George’s strong thighs to catch himself. He opened his mouth obediently, taking George within his mouth when he pushed forward, all the way to the back of Alexander’s throat holding there. “This isn’t for you.” George reminded him. He would get no pleasure for this, not that Alexander thought he deserved any.

George was not kind, he never was with punishments. He thrust in and out of Alexander’s mouth, not caring when Alexander gaged around him or if he was getting enough air. Saliva dribbled down his chin, as he tried just sit and be good, taking whatever was given to him. He relaxed his throat, taking George deeper, refusing not to give the man every ounce of pleasure he deserved.

“I don’t know why I allow you do anything but this. _Fuck_ —this is all you are good for,” George grunted, pulling Alexander off him allowing him to catch his breath for a moment before thrusting in once more. Alexander did not gag this time, prepared for the relentless in and out of George’s cock. “Worthless for anything else. Good for nothing but somewhere to my cock.”

 _He was worthless, completely worthless_ , Alexander’s mind whispered to him, repeating George’s words. _Selfish, disrespectful, slutty, needy, a good for nothing whore._

It was not much longer before George coming down the back of Alexander’s throat with a long groan. Alexander swallowed obediently, given no other option but to. Even if he been given another option, Alexander knew better. Why waste such a gift?

When he finally pulled out, George looked down at the pretty sight below him. Flushed cheeks, one more red than the other from the slap he gave earlier, tears rolling down them. His lips swollen, glistening with saliva and residual come, dripping down his already coated chin. His breathes were coming in shallow huffs and George took delight in the dark already forming on his thin chest. Alexander’s skin was always so receptive. His hair was a mess from where he tightly held it in his hands. He could see the apology screaming at him from Alexander’s dark brown eyes, the ones that were normally bight and captured George’s attention when they first met. The fire in those eyes were dulled, much to George’s delight, as Alexander fell back into his proper role, submissive and undyingly loyal to him.

“What do you say, Alexander?”

“Thank you, my King.”


	4. IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Herc and John are still at the bar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello! So sorry for the wait. I'm absolutely dying right now in nursing school. I was at clinical this weekend so I woke up at 4:30 to get to my location before spending the day there. Plus it's the last month of school, so the teachers are just cramming everything in and deadlines are coming up fast and I am the definition of Procrastinator. Plus add in a toddler and I barely get a chance to sit down. 
> 
> So let me know if there are any mistakes because I'm writing this super sleep deprived. 
> 
> Anywho! Sorry for taking so long. Thank you to everyone who have been leaving comments and hitting kudos. Much appreciated!
> 
> PS I was having posting issues so hopefully this pops up right for you all.

“So we’re sitting there, wondering where in the world Herc disappeared to. He’s not in any of the bathtubs—which let me tell you is the first place you should be looking for a drunk Hercules Mulligan—and he’s not in any of the extra beds. We searched the entire house, completely hung over, before wandering down to the stables because that’s the last place we saw him on Peggy’s story on Snapchat. And wouldn’t you believe it, there was Herc, asleep in a hay pile with horse happily munching away next to his head.” John was explaining why Herc’s contact in his cellphone was Horsefucker, much to Hercules’ demise. The name threw Lafayette for complete loop after seeing it while John showed them one of the designs Herc completed that were in his messages. “Completely ass naked!”

“ _Mon dieu, non_!” Lafayette gasped. Hercules’ cheeks felt red.

“Completely. No idea where his clothes went. They weren’t anywhere in the barn.”

“Still have absolutely no idea where they went,” Herc butted in. “And I really liked those pants.”

“They looked good on you,” Laurens added.

“Does not everything look good on Mulligan?” Lafayette asked, as they poured John another beer.

“My ass looks exceptionally good in everything, thank you very much!” he reminded both of them.

John accepted the beer with a thanks. “Right you are! But anyway, we finally get him awake and he looks at us, looks at the horse, down at himself and says, “Tell me I did not fuck a horse.” The look on his face!” John’s laughter uncontrollable, his face lighting up in a way that stopped Hercules’ heart for a few moments despite his embarrassment. “Here, I think I have a picture somewhere on my phone.”

“You mean to tell me you have a, how you say, nude picture of our friend here on your phone?” Laf asked, raising their eyebrows.

“Is that jealousy I detect in your tone, Lafayette?” Laurens taunted.

“But of course!” Laf responded, making the three of the laugh harder.

Lafayette had been nothing but flirty since Hercules stepped into Reign all those weeks ago. He worried that the treatment was just how they talked to all their patrons, just another way to get the tip averages up. But slowly, that worry ebbed away as their conversations became deeper, not just flirty banter or about their day. They slowly opened up to one another, trading stories, and connecting quite easily as they chatted the nights away.

Part of him felt guilty, as he been crushing on Laurens for how long now? His beautiful John, best friends since John came to Columbia as a freshman and he a junior. Hercules happened to be the RA in John’s dorm and taken the freshman under his mighty wing. When their friendship grew, they got an apartment off campus the next year. Herc knew John struggled for a while with his sexuality before admitting to his father at the end of his freshman year, who promptly cut off all funding to his education and banned him from ever coming home. It became another reason that drove them to get in an apartment together. No way was he going to see Laurens without somewhere to go.

He would have loved to ask John out all those years ago when they first met. But he couldn’t; not as his RA and not knowing if John was gay. An argument could be made when both those roadblocks were removed he could have jump at the opportunity but, confessing to your best friend that you are helplessly in love with them and have to hide a hard on every time they walk about the apartment shirtless? Yeah, not to easiest thing to do. Hercules silently resigned himself to secretly struggled in the background, loving Laurens from afar. Then Laf showed up, and Herc found himself liking the bartender, as guilty as he felt doing so. He felt even worse when he was sucked into the hurricane commonly known as Alexander, powerless to do anything about it.

“Okay, put the phone away, Laurens. I’m stealing it tonight when you’re sleeping and erasing that picture,” Herc threatened.

John grinned at him. “That’s fine. Peggy has a copy.”

Hercules groaned while both John and Laf erupted into more laughter.

“I wonder what could be so funny?” Hercules straighten up, laughter ceasing immediately, his body tensing because he knew that voice. That eerie British lit that held the tone of an aristocrat in this modern day. He heard it before as the man skipped through the establishment, flaunting what he owned and who he owned. Turning, he starred at George King, dressed to the nines in some designer brand. Herc absently thought he could make that shirt ten time better with different fabric that complemented his skin better, taking it in more around the shoulders where it looked a little loose. Not that he would, because fuck George King. Let him wear what he thought was flattering.

Standing a few steps behind were his boys; Samuel, James, and Alexander. While Alexander continued to be fooled that his relationship was one built out of love, trust, and sunshine, Herc could see the power in imbalance, the delicate line all three walked to receive some sort of affection from King.

Anger grew inside him as glanced over Alexander, who’s wonderful eyes were cast toward the ground, his body shaking as leaned completely on James. The tank looser than before, doing nothing to hide the beginning of black splotches forming on the tanned skin of chest. His one cheek stained red, a hand print could just be made out. His lips, which Hercules dreamed about kissing, were swollen as he bit at them nervously. The most concerning factor was his shallow breathing, like he could not get a deep enough breath making his chest rapidity go up and down without properly breathing in air. An hour before Alexander had been all over Hercules, flirting with John, mouthing off in French to Lafayette, an all-around bundle of energy. Now he was the opposite—deflated and drained, defeated almost.

“Nothing, _monsieur_ King. Your guest here was telling a riveting tale of drunken escapade,” Lafayette easily told him, able to deflect the owner after years of working for him.

“Awesome, wow,” King said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “Now, Lafayette, you are closing?”

“ _Oui_ , Thomas and I.”

“Good. We’re going home early tonight. Howe will be staying and closing up alongside you.” King turned to his boyfriends. “Sam, you have the keys, do you not?”

Sam stepped forward toward his boyfriend handing him the keys. King kissed Sam on his cheek, lingering for a moment before turning to hand the keys over to Laf. Herc’s gaze flickered over to Alexander again who before only looked at the ground near his feet, now gazed longingly at the display of affection between King and Sam. His heart broke to see him craving such affection. Hercules gripped the edge of his chair, willing himself not to jump up and drown Alexander in kisses. He would give it to him in a heartbeat, all the affection he ever craved. Hell, the way Laurens and Lafayette looked at him, Alexander would be smothered with it without a second thought.

Alexander met his gaze for a moment, just a few seconds, but it was enough for Herc to see the light that normally blazed so brightly within them, dimmed to the smallest flicker. Alex dropped his gazed with a finch, submissively lowering his head.

“I cannot find Howe at the moment, so I will leave these with you. I feel like I do not need to remind you how to do everything.” King’s nasally voice broke through his inner thoughts.

“I believe not, _monsieur_ ,” Laf reminded him, distaste evident in their voice ever so slightly. 

“You okay there?” John asked, referring the Alexander, and Hercules heart jumped. He saw Lafayette freeze behind the bar from the corner of his eye.

“He’s fine. Alex is quite clumsy and fell trying to reach a bottle of vodka in a cabinet,” King said offhandedly, glancing back to boy in question. “I told him to grab someone taller but he did not listen. Always has to prove himself one way or another. Isn’t that right, Alex?”

“Yes, George,” Alex murmured, still looking at the floor.

King clicked is tongue. “Speak up, darling, it is not polite to mumble.”

“Yes, of course, I’m sorry. I just fell, I’ll be okay,” Alexander hurried to say.

If looks could kill, George would be lying dead at Laurens’ feet. His jaw clenched tight as he grunted, “If you say so.”

“Now, we shall be going. Enjoy your night gentleman.” And with that King turned, grasping Sam’s hand before wrapping an arm around Alexander. If one looked closely enough, just as Hercules did, they would see the way King’s fingers dug into Alexander’s shoulders, the boy flinching before settling into his side.

“You are lucky to be alive, John,” Lafayette warned John, once they were out of hearing range.

“That pompous ass is lucky he’s alive,” John snapped, fists clenching on the bar top, still glaring at the back of King.

Hercules placed a comforting hand on John’s shoulder, feeling him relax under it somewhat. “If looks could kill, he’d be dead.”

“That would not be satisfying enough,” he grunted.

Lafayette nodded, a curl breaking of their bun with the motion. “I understand the feeling. I have watching him mistreat Alexander, James and Sam for three years now.”

“It has just gotten progressively worse over the years,” came Thomas’ southern drawl as he reemerged from the back of the bar. “What’d I miss?”

“George is heading home. We will be here with Howe to close up,” Lafayette told him.

Frowning, Thomas nodded. “And James? Alexander? Sam?”

“Sam was his normal self. James looked just as he did before,” Hercules told him, reassuring the man. “Alexander looked like—”

“The poster child for domestic abuse?” Laurens butted in as his temper flared again.

“That’s one way to put it,” Mulligan agreed.

“I would say not to fret, _mon cher_ , but…” they trailed off, not sure how to comfort Laurens over the issue of Alexander. “I worry day and night over him. You’ll do the same, just as Hercules has done. Thomas worries every minute over James. We live with it and only hope one day, they see reason.”

And God, did they all hope they would see reason before it was too late.

* * *

 

An hour or so later Mulligan realized the time, which seemed to pass too quickly with Lafayette. Conversation flowed easily between the three, as did the beer between Herc and John, the latter now significantly drunk. Three Sam Adams normally did him in, but he was well beyond that now.

“Come on, Laurens. You’ve gotta go into the hospital tomorrow morning and I’m not dragging your ass out of bed,” Hercules said, rising from his seat, throwing the necessary bills on the bar plus a good size tip for his favorite bartender.  

“You sharing a bed with me, Herc?” John flirted, gazing up at him through his lashes. His South Carolina accent slowly leaking through. 

Hercules gulped. “In your dreams, little man. Let’s go.”

“Aren’t you going to leave your number?” Laurens whispered but it was not quite a whisper. Herc’s cheeks flooded with color again because Lafayette must have heard him but the French native seemed to not be listening or they were very good at pretending they weren’t.

“Laurens, shut the hell up,” he muttered, pulling his friend from his seat.

John leaned against the bar instead, pulling a pen from the edge before grabbing a napkin, fumbling with the pen for a moment before writing out ten digits. “That’s Herc’s number. He doesn’t shut up about you at home.”

“ _Merci beaucoup, mon cher_ ,” Lafayette responded, a smirk on his face. “I’ve been very patiently waiting for him to leave his number for me. Perhaps you could as well? I would not like it to take weeks again.”

“M-mine?” John stuttered. Hercules laughed, grabbing the pen from Lauren’s, writing down his number.

“But of course, I’d love to talk with both of you. You can share more embarrassing stores about our Hercules, _non_? Get to know each other a bit more?”

John’s face split into a grin. “Sure thing, Laf!”

“Alright, John Laurens. If you are done flirting—”

“—You flirt just as much as me, Hercules Mulligan—“

“Your bed is waiting for your tired ass.”

“ _Au revoir pour le moment, mes amis_ ,” Lafayette said waving. “I shall, how you say, talk to you soon!”

Both Herc and John threw goodbyes over their shoulders as they departed from the bar. John huddled into Herc for warmth, which he did not mind at all. Laurens was not very tall, maybe up to his shoulders, fitting easily under his arm. The pair caught a cab which took them to their small, slightly crappy apartment in East Harlem, the same one they moved into when they left the college dorms. Across the street happened to be their favorite coffee ship, ran by two of the sweetest women, Eliza and Maria, and the Chinese takeout place down the street had their order memorized whenever they called. At the time, the location allowed from an easy commute to Columbia. Now, it remained a good distance for John to travel to work at New York- Presbyterian on 15 Central Park West and an easy journey for Herc to his tailoring ship. They kept it, despite numerous conversations to move. It was home.

The elevator, that always seemed to be broken, still had a sign declaring it so. Due to it being out of order, Herc had the pleasure of trying to convince a tired and drunk John Laurens up three flights of stairs, which always was a pleasure. When they reached the apartment, 177 B, John dissolved into giggles at absolutely nothing, leaning against the wall as he watched Herc tried to unlock the stubborn door.

John disappeared into his room when the apartment was finally unlocked. The apartment had two bedrooms, a living area that flowed into a kitchen where Herc baked to counteract whatever vegetables John tried to hide in his disgusting health smoothies he insisted Herc drink with him. Hercules grabbed a bottle of aspirin, popping two himself before leaving two for John to take. Settling down on the couch, he pulled one of the blankets he knitted, a soft grey one, over his lap while bringing up Netflix on the TV.

He was lost in his feelings, wanting to save Alex from his mess of a relationship, wanting to bring Laf home and kiss him senseless, wanting to have Lauren’s in his arms for the rest of time. Was he selfish to like so many people at once? Could he have them all at once? Hercules knew he would be open to a polyamorous relationship, one built out of love and trust. Hercules was all about love and God, did he wanted nothing else in the world then to love those three.

Laurens came out his room, dressed in only a pair of plaid pajama pants. Herc groaned internally, why did he have to look absolutely perfect? His chest coated in tiny freckles, sculpted to be a like diagram in one of John’ health books. He popped the two aspirins Herc had left on the coffee table for him before laying down across the couch his head in Herc’s lap. A drunk John was a very affectionate John.

Hercules combed his fingers softly through the mass of curls that belong to his roommate which made his roommate grumble appreciatively. “Wanna watch The Office? Parks and Recs?”

“Parks and Recs,” John responded, as he pulled another one of the blankets Herc had made, this one dark green. The fabric reminded John of turtles for some reason and begged Herc to use it, which he gave into quite easily.

He settled back after selecting a random episode, warm and content with alcohol still buzzing in his system and John laying across him. One out of three wasn’t so bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> Mon dieu, non: My God, no.  
> Merci beaucoup, mon cher: Thank you very much, my dear  
> Au revoir pour le moment, mes amies: Good bye for the moment, my friends


	5. V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander can't breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello! Sorry it's taken me a week or just about to get this out. I rewrote this twice, then I was unsure if I wanted to go this route, rewrote it again, wrote too much before splitting it into two chapters. All while trying to pass a nursing exam, an anatomy exam and having my son go under general for from dental work. I need a drink. 
> 
> Alright, so here we go, off to torture Alex a bit more. (my bad) Let me know about any mistakes you spot. 
> 
> Warning: Panic attacks, punishments, and typical Alex blaming himself.

It is a known fact that Alexander never found sleep easily. Often, it took hours for his mind to calm down enough to enter unconsciousness, which only ever lasted for so long. Typically, he got up at four, sometimes earlier if it happened to be a very sleepless night. Sometimes Alexander did not sleep at all, resigning to the fact early on when he noticed the signs. His insomnia drove him to wander over the library they kept on the third floor where the walls were stacked with books, the silence comforting. A computer sat in the room, on a nice desk in the corner near a window, but Alexander did not have permission to use it.

Slowly time would pass as he read whatever books caught his eye, losing himself in the words authors spilled upon the page. He found solace in the long flowing verses of poems, or in the historical facts of history books. Every now and then, he lost himself in a realm of fantasy. He read and read until the clock read eight a.m. before rushing to whatever bed James happened to be asleep in to wake him up. The house was big enough for each of them to have their own bedrooms, but they rarely slept in separate beds. If George happened to be mad at them, he would sequester himself in his own room, ignoring them for the rest of the night. When James fell sick, which he often did, he would quarantine himself away. Alexander could always count on Sam to fall asleep with, the larger man clinging to him like Alexander was his own personal teddy bear.

But neither Sam nor George appreciated being woken up, George liked sleeping in whenever he got the chance and Sam never rose before ten. James never minded when Alexander woke him up, happy to slip from the covers and snuggle together on the couch watching _Good Morning America._ Other times, Alexander would wake James up slowly, kissing down the column of his neck, tasting the skin there while stroking his hands over his slim chest underneath the sweater James always wore to bed. He would let his hand continue to roam, sometimes dipping below his waistband until James own hands responded by grabbing Alexander closer before pulling him from the bed into another so they did not disturb their boyfriends, spending the rest the morning fumbling under the sheets.

But Alexander did not do any of those things that morning. Instead, he was curled up, gasping on the floor of his own room, which he rarely ever used. The blankets pooled around his curled-up frame after he had fallen from his bed, driven out in panic from a nightmare. Without anyone near him while he slept, Alexander always ended up on the floor, disoriented and unable to focus on his surroundings as a panic attack took over him. Typically, his boyfriends never allowed him to wake up alone, patiently waiting beside him until he woke up.

George had still been upset with Alexander when they returned home the previous night, especially after John noticed the bruises blossoming his chest. When the door to their home shut behind the four of them, the screaming started. George yelling about how ungrateful Alexander acted. Wanting to know if Alexander did not care what other people thought of George, if he was too selfish to think about anything but himself. Alexander in tears as he apologized, pleading at George’s feet in hope of forgiveness. He was unsure George heard him over his own ranting, not stopping while dragging Alexander along the marble flooring to his own room, slamming the door behind him.

Panic seized his chest, banging on the door to be let out. George promised before he would never do this again, never let Alexander be alone at night. He begged, crying for James or Sam to help George see reason, only to be met with George’s harsh whisper of a voice, declaring that Alexander would spend the night in his own room and would do so quietly. Alexander obeyed the command. 

Time passed in a blur of tears and fits of panic, Alexander curled up on his bed underneath mounds of blankets. He stared at the clock in hopes that time would move faster so that morning would come and he could ask again for George’s forgiveness. His eyes felt heavy around four and soon he found himself in a fitful sleep, legs twitching as his body fought the slumber that took over his body.  

Alexander woke as the sun graced the sky with its presence, feeling trapped and unsure of where he was. Where was George? Where was James and Sam? Somewhere in the back of his mind whispered, _Where was Lafayette, Hercules and John?_ Why was he alone? Alexander felt as though he was suffocating, drowning in the dim darkness of the early morning. His body started twitching as he fought to break free, trying to surface to gulp down fresh air. He flung his body over the edge, landing in a heap on the floor. A scream tore through his lips as something in his chest gave, pain flaring up inside of him. The piercing sound of his screams breaking the silence that lingered around him. His side had been sore last night, nothing that he never experienced before but this was excruciating.

Something was wrong. Something was wrong and he was alone.

Why was he in so much pain? Why couldn’t he breathe? The pain would jump every time he tried to breathe. Unable take a deep enough breathe, causing him to feel lightheaded at the lack of oxygen. He tried to uncurl himself, but the pain sent him straight back into his previous position, his chest screaming at the movement.

Someone must have heard him, because suddenly his door slammed against the tan walls. Though the tears he managed to see a blob of purple, which meant it was Jemmy, the lightest sleeper of the four of them, in his favorite purple sweater.

James fell to his knees beside him, wincing slightly at the impact. “Lex,” he whispered, his hands ghosting over his face, trying to wipe away the tears that gathered on his cheeks only to have new one replace the old. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

James must have thought it was a panic attack. “P-ain…chest,” Alexander managed to get out. “Can’t—” He could not get the rest of the words out, his chest screaming as he tried to suck in enough air.

“George!! Sam!!” James yelled loudly before turning back. His raised voice surprised Alexander, James never raised his voice. “Why did you not say anything last night?”

“Fell. Made—worse!” Alexander gasped.

James ran a soothing hand over his dark hair. “I don’t hear them coming. I’m going to go get them okay? Be right back.”

 _Don’t leave,_ Alexander wanted to scream at him, limply reaching out to grab James before he left, but he already disappeared from his view.   _Don’t leave_. _Don’t leave_. _Don’t leave_. Why was he leaving? Why did everyone always leave? He was in so much pain. Didn’t anyone care?

It felt like hours later, hours of painful half-breaths and being unable to move, before he felt someone’s hands on his face, cradling it gently. He opened his eyes, still full of fresh tears at the agonizing pain that taken home in his chest.

George’s face swarmed his vision. “Alex? Lex? What’s going on my love?” His warm British tone soothing Alexander just by the mere sound.

“It hurts…badly. My f-fault,” he rambled through the pain. “ _Je suis désolé.”_

“Hush, sweetheart. You are talking in French again and you know I do not understand it,” he chastised softly, and Alexander flinched at his slip up. “I am not mad Alexander. We will get you taken care of okay? I will make the pain go away.” He turned to Sam and James. “Call 911, get an ambulance on the way. The two of you will have to go with him—”

“George, he’ll want you there. You know he hates hospitals,” James said, speaking up for Alexander as Sam pulled out his phone to call 911.

“I have a huge meeting this morning…” George trailed off. He sighed, gripping Alexander’s hand more tightly.

“G-George… _aidez-moi,”_ Alexander’s weak plea came.

“English Alex,” George reminded gently.

“Ambulance is on its way,” Sam said, as he stepped back into the room, his hand sliding into James for support.

“Let me go see if Lee or André can take my morning meeting. Maybe Howe if he is awake…” George muttered as he pulled at his phone.

“Not leaving?” murmured Alexander, hoping George would not leave him. Everyone always left.

“No Lex, I am not leaving. Let me go figure out what I am going to do about work,” he said, standing to call someone one.

Sam and James sat down next to Alexander after George left, whispering softly to him to help distract him from the pain. He continued to cry, the pain become worse with each breath he tried to take. He felt dizzy with the lack of oxygen getting to him. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, trying to lose himself in the comfort of his boyfriends.

The ambulance arrived fast. Within minutes of Sam calling the sirens could be heard from the inside. Panic doubled within Alexander, realization crashing over him. Alexander did not like hospitals. He did not like doctors. They made his skin crawl and made memories he would rather not face resurface. James quickly there to sooth him as Sam left to bring the paramedics up through the apartment.

There were two paramedics, a man and a woman. The women looked significantly younger, most likely fresh on the force. They introduced themselves as Sybil and Paul, that they were going to transport him to NewYork Presbyterian. They worked quickly, firing off questions to Alexander which caused his spin even more before they directed his questions to his partners.

“Is he allergic to anything?” Paul asked as he placed an oxygen mask over his face, as his partner strapped something around his arm. Alexander thought it would help but he still felt as though he was gasping.

“Nothing we are aware of,” James told them.

Paul nodded in hearing him, his face serious, before setting up an IV to go into Alexander’s arm. “What’s your pain on a scale from one to ten? Ten being the worse pain of your life to one being no pain.”

“ _Neuf_ ,” Alexander replied, having lost ability to reply in English, reverting to his native tongue.

“Nine, right? It’s been a while since I’ve taken French,” Paul chatted with him, as he drew the medication from the vile. He noticed Alexander tense as the needle drew closer. “It’s okay buddy, Just going to give you some medication for the pain. Relief is coming.”

“Can you tell me what happened?” the other, Sybil, asked looking over Alexander’s chest, fingers gently brushing over the bruised marks.

George cleared his throat. “He fell down the stairs yesterday. He felt sore but nothing more , but wanted to sleep away from us last night just so none of us hit the bruises while we were asleep. He must have forgotten nobody happen to be in bed with him and fell.” All of it a lie, but they could not tell them the truth. It was Alexander’s fault anyway, he brought it all upon himself.

“Alright, we’re gonna transfer him now to the stretcher. Alexander, try a breathe through the pain okay? One of you can ride with us,” Paul said, getting ready to move Alexander to the stretcher. “One, two, three!”

Alexander cried out at the suddenly movement, the painkiller having not set in yet.

“James go with him, Sam and I will be right behind, we still need to get dressed,” George said, disappearing from his side. Alexander watched distantly as he pulled James close as he past him, fingers digging in harshly to James’ arm. George pulled him close, whispering harshly. Alexander wondered what he could be saying. Why couldn’t he know?

“Correctly?” James asked, eyebrows pulled together in confusion.

George face darkened. “His last name, don’t use it.”

“Right,” James amended, quickly looking to see if either of the paramedics heard them before George dashed off back down the hall. James reached his side, carefully taking his hand as he was wheeled out of the house.

“ _Quelle_ …?” he tried to say, wanting to know what George was talking about.

James shushed him. “It’s okay Lexi, nothing to worry about. I’ll take care of everything, okay?”

Alexander wanted to argue, wanted to press further to know what they had been talking about. He could barely make their voices out over the ringing in his ears and his own labored breathing. They did not keep secrets.

The paramedics lifted him to the ambulance, distracting him from his thoughts. Bright lights blinding him as they strapped him down and took off, sirens at full volume. Jemmy sat beside his head. The paramedics worked frantically over him, rattling off his blood pressure and other medical jargon that was lost on him. James did not once let go of his hand, brushing back his hair from his face to keep him distracted. He loved James so much. What did he do deserve someone so caring?

The ride did not take long, the hospital not far from where they lived on sixty second street. The doors flew open and he was rushed out, his hand breaking from James’ reassuring hold.

“What we got?” a voice questioned. Where did James go? Why did they take him away?

He did not listen, more like did not care to listen, as the paramedics rattled off more numbers and details as more medical professionals swarmed his gurney. James said he was not going to leave him, but he dissipated, no longer grounding Alexander with his warm hand.

Where was James? George? Sam? _Lafayette? Hercules? John?_

“Alexander?” That voice seemed familiar, tearing him from his thoughts of James. He heard that voice before. Not Jemmy’s voice but it settled the fright pounding away in his chest. He looked up. His vision swarmed with freckles.

Ah. There was John.

* * *

 

Translations:

Je suis désolé: I'm sorry  
Aidez-moi: Help me  
Neuf: Nine  
Quelle?: What?

Also, [this](http://www.modlingroup.com/detail.aspx?id=20625TH) what I used for George's home. It's for sale if you feel inspired to buy it...for 84.5 million.

Paul Revere and Sybil Ludington were pretty cool, but Sybil was way cooler. If you haven't already, look her up.


	6. VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John goes to work

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who wrote this instead of her six page paper for nursing school due by 9:15 AM on Friday??
> 
> Thank to everyone leaving comments and hitting that kudos button. It makes me so happy every time ^_^
> 
> So we are back at it again. I don't really think there are any big warnings for this chapter? Please let me know if something does need to be tagged or warned. Or if you spot any glaring mistakes because I'm sleep deprived.

John Laurens morning started off painful. Cell phone alarms and hangovers did not mix. Why did he have to be such a light weight? He always stuck to two beers on a work night, sometimes going for a third but last night, the combination of meeting both Lafayette and Alexander, he over did it. He blindly reached for his phone on the coffee table, the alarm blaring quite loudly in the otherwise peaceful apartment. He felt his pillow groan beneath him, and he tensed before settling back down against the great expanse of chest. He and Herc must have fallen asleep watching _Parks and Recs_ , both swaddled in multiple hand-knit Hercules Mulligan blankets. John’s favorite way to sleep.  

“Laurens, shut that alarm up before I shove your ass on the floor,” Herc grumbled. Despite his threat, tightening his arms around John.

“Sorry, Herc,” he said finally grasping his phone, silencing the alarm. Regretfully, he pulled away from the warmth of his best friend, stretching as he rose. He needed to get to hospital within the hour, already dreading his shift with the headache pounding away in his skull.

“Come back,” Herc mumbled, reaching his long arms to grab John around his waist, fingers sliding along his bare skin causing shivers to run down his back. Hopefully Hercules just thought it was from the cold and not because John craved more of his touch. John allowed himself to be pulled back into Herc’s chest, settling down for five more minutes. He secretly loved the sleepy attention. If days could be spent in this exact position, John would be a happy man.

“I’ve got to go shower, Herc,” he told him after those five glorious minutes.

“Is that an invitation?” Herc lips moved gently against his neck. John held back a moan that threaten to tumble out of his mouth. Why was Herc trying to kill him today?

“Anytime babe. You know the door is never locked.”

John got up then, much to both boys dismay, heading toward their shared bathroom. Small, sometimes it was a wonder Hercules could even fit inside, with pale blue walls and white tiled flooring. The curtain a classic rubber duck pattern that ended up in the shopping cart as a joke but managed to become a fixture in the bathroom. The counter littered with hair products that John used to try—and usually failed—to tame his curls. Different moisturizes both men used sat near their toothbrushes. John collection of hair ties collected into in a mason jar because Herc refused to have them all over the floor anymore.

The warm shower helped to dull the pain in his head, the heat however, doing the exact opposite to John body. Hercules was too damn hot for his own good. He wanted to yell out to Herc, telling him to get his gorgeous behind in there with him because what better pick me up than morning shower sex?

Groaning, the image filled John’s mind as his hand wondered down, grasping himself in one hand as the other held himself up against the wall. Already hard, he managed to stifle a groan as he moved his hand over his shaft, letting himself get lost in the fantasy. Hercules coming in behind him, his dark skin glistening from the water. He would kiss up his spine as one hand shooed John’s away, grasping his cock to controlling the pace. It be slow, teasing, because Hercules loved to get John riled up, make him beg for more. Those lush lips would trace their way up the back of his neck, trailing kisses, sucking marks that would be hidden by his curls. John would grind back, eliciting a moan deep from the bigger man’s chest. Hercules other hand would clamp onto his hip urging him to keep his ass pressed against his own hard length to create a delicious friction that made John a moaning mess. The shower water would be slick between their bodies as they moved against each other to completion, happy to start the day a few minutes late.

After coming in his own hand rather than one much larger than his own, John finished his shower without further distractions. He tried— _key word: tried_ —to tame his curls, before giving up, pulling it back into a simple ponytail. picking out a pair of scrubs. Dark blue with his hospital logo on it. his name badge on, the clip decked out with a turtle because just about everything John owned had a turtle on it. The clip always a hit with the kids that came through the ER.

John emerged fifteen minutes later in a pair of dark blue scrubs with his hospital logo. His name badge clipped on opposite to the logo, the clip decked out with a turtle because just about everything John owned had a turtle on it. The clip always a hit with the kids that came through the ER.  A blush spread across his freckled face at the thought of jerking off while Hercules still sat in the other room watching a rerun of _Project Runway,_ still nestled under a mountain of blankets on the couch.

He moved over to kitchen to start making the smoothies, just another part of his morning routine. John loved eating healthy. Every morning he made superfood smoothies for the both them. Lunches were always kale salads loaded with veggies and baked chicken. Herc usually managed to sneak two cookies into his lunches without him ever seeing which John thought was the most adorable thing in the world. Water throughout the day to help keep his system clean, only to ruin with beer when they went out.

“I’ll leave your smoothie in the fridge,” he said as he started to slice avocados.

“You always do,” Herc responded. “Are you making it with Almond milk?”

“Yeah, what else would I make it with?” Well that was not entirely true. Sometimes he made it with coconut milk.

“I hate almond milk.”

John laughed as his friend, adding in the dates and frozen blueberries. “You can’t even taste it, you baby.” Baby kale, ginger and walnuts rounded out the smoothie before the delightfully loud sound blasted through the apartment.

“Our neighbors are going to kill you one day for that ruckus,” Herc said once the blades stopped whirling.

“Our neighbors are too high half the time to know which way is up,” John responded, capping his drink in to-go cup while reaching for a protein bar. “I’ve gotta run, Hercules. You could say I have to—“

“Don’t do it. Don’t you dare do it Laurens.”

“—go the distance.”

Herc groaned loudly while John cackled while exiting the apartment before he could be murdered. It be great on his tombstone. _Here lies John Laurens, killed by Hercules._ It be original at least. Who else’s tombstone would read they were killed by a demi-god?

The commute to work was not long, around twenty-five minutes. In the morning, John did not mind walking, catching the subway to quicken things up a bit. At night though, when his feet ached, he caught a taxi. John loved working at the hospital, loved his job as a nurse. His dad forced him into law, wanting him to follow in his political footsteps. When John came out, his father quickly disowned him. Not publicly of course because a politician that disowned his own child? What a headline that would make. John quickly found his place in the nursing school, ditching the thought of being a stuffy lawyer.

He worked at NewYork Presbyterian since his second year of nursing school as a CNA. Slowly, he worked his way through the ranks and floors before finding his spot in the hectic Emergency Department as a registered nurse. The shifts were long, he barely ever got a moment to sit, and lord did he see more bodily fluids than he ever wanted to but it was rewarding. Every night when he rode him in the taxi, John knew he made the right decision despite his aching feet.

Peggy, who always managed to get there before him somehow, greeted him with a smile as he walked in, curls piled on top of her head with a bright yellow headband keeping them from falling into her face. Later in shifts, especially during a busy one, John would always ask to borrow one, wanting to keep his own pesky curls from falling into his face. She sat behind a computer, documenting or looking up something. The two worked well together, often working shifts together and asking the another for assistance when needed. Fresh graduate, only twenty-one, but Peggy knew her shit. Her drive and work ethic, not to mention her take-no-shit attitude made her fit right in on the floor.

“Morning report will be in…nine minutes now,” Peggy told him, checking the time on her obnoxious orange watch.

John nodded. “I’m just gonna run to the locker room.”

After slipping on the sneakers he only kept at the hospital—because he did not want to bring home whatever was on these floors—John made sure his hair is tied back in the mirror before grabbing his green stethoscope to wrap around his neck. John walked back over to where Peggy still sat waiting for morning report. More nurses had filtered in by the point, one of them being Martha Mannings, a fellow use-to-be southern. She had been in nursing school within, suffering through long hours of studying, test after nerve-racking test, and never ending clinical. Martha’s hair kept her hair short, pixie like, mostly because she hated having to style her hair. She was paler than John but her face rivaled his for the award for most freckles.

 Their charge nurse for the shift was a nurse by the name of Florence Nightingale, a legend within the realm of nursing. She spent her time between working on the floor and dedicating herself to her research to develop nursing interventions to lower the rates of infections with the wards. When John had been deciding what field he wanted to switch to he attended one of her lectures at Columbia which obviously made a huge impact on his decision.

After Flo, as she commonly went by, went through with them what night shift left for her, he was assigned five rooms. The sound of vomiting came from one of the rooms as they disbursed.  Peggy threw her head back and groaned, “It’s begun,” making John dissolve into laugher because it happened to be only a little past six and there was another twelve hours to go.

John only picked up three patients within the first hour. One claiming an upset stomach, another with a broken foot, the other looking like a case of pneumonia. He set up IV’s on the first and third, let Dr. Kennedy look them over before administering the medications he prescribed. He brought the broken foot guy down to radiology before returning to the ER to wait for the results. He helped Peggy out with her patient who is non-stop vomiting, able to down his protein bar at some point before finally sitting down to document before needing to go check on his patients again.

Around seven-forty the desk got a call from an ambulance in route with a patient with possible lung damage or a collapsed lung, ETA around four minutes. Martha grabbed both John and Peggy to help her. The three nurses met Dr. Kennedy at the doors to await the patient, slipping on gloves so they were ready to treat whatever the ambulance brought.

When the ambulance arrived, they jumped on the stretcher taking in what the Revere, the paramedic, was reporting while looking over the patient for themselves.

“Twenty-one-year-old male, tachycardia, dyspnea, complaints of severe chest pain. Large contusions over left side of chest. BP is high, 138/92. Given oxygen on route, ribs feel broken on left side, possible pneumothorax or injury to the left lung,” Revere rattled off as he and Sybil push the stretcher inside the hospital.

The patient still in an obvious state of distress, chest rising and falling quickly. Huge black bruises covering the left side of his chest. The patient sucked in a gasp when Kennedy brushed his fingers alongside them. Those splotches looked familiar. John trailed his eyes up to the boy’s face, heart faltering when he recognized the tear strained face. _Alexander_.

He heard Martha call for someone to get a portable x-ray machine after Kennedy ordered one to her.

He heard Peggy calmly reassuring that he was going to be okay.

He heard everyone doing their job but John found he could not do his own, too stunned to do anything after realizing Alexander was suddenly on the stretcher below him.

“Alexander?” he whispered, eyes searching his face. Those brown eyes met his, John nearly crying himself as his heart broke at the pain and the panic that swam within them. Something like relief flashed through them before being replaced with pain once more as Kennedy pushed at his chest again.

They pulled Alexander into the hospital but John stayed outside, looking over to the abandoned ambulance to see who came with Alexander, because surely after what Laf and Herc told him, one of his boyfriends must have come with him. Sure enough, James Madison stood near the ambulance, his own tears falling down his face as his hands anxiously fiddled in front of him. The oversized purple sweated swamped his frame and the plaid PJ pants he wore were a few inches too long.

He walked over to James, fist clenching in anger at his sides. James’ eyes widened in recognition. Crossing his arms across his chest, John leveled James with a glare. “What did he do?”

“Nothing! George didn’t do this, he would never,” James tried to defend. “He’s on his way with Sam, even rescheduled his entire day to stay with him because he knows Lexi’s hates hospitals.”

“So those black splotches just appeared on his side?” he asked, arching a brow. “I saw them last night, I know. You disappeared with him into the back. Alexander was fine then.”

James wavered. “Look, this wasn’t George. Lex slept by himself last night. I was already asleep or else I would have dragged him into my bed. If Lex wakes up alone, he panics and falls off the bed. I think he landed on his side. I woke up to him screaming. Please, you just have to help him, I-I can’t—”

John soften, seeing the grief that consumed James. “This wouldn’t have happened if your relationship with normal.”

“Our relationship is…,” James argued, before cutting himself off with a sigh. Shaking his head, he continued. “George is on his way—George loves us. Loves Lex.”

John sighed, knowing he needed to go help with Alexander and that he would probably get nowhere talking to James about his relationship. “We’ll do our best to treat him. Come fill some paperwork out?”

A watery smile broke across his face. “Thank you. Lexi really doesn’t like hospitals, doctors send him to panic attacks. I know I can’t be back with him right now but please, help him.”

“I’ll make sure he’s calm,” John reassured him as he led James over to the desk where one of the other nurses would help him start his paperwork. They placed Alexander in one of his room, making him one of John’s patients. Martha and Peggy were hooking him up to another IV while taking vitals when John walked into the room.

“Looking at a pneumothorax most likely. Waiting to take an x-ray to determine the severity, but we’re going give him pain meds and keep him on oxygen in the meantime. Kennedy thinks he’ll have to put a chest tube in,” Martha explained, eyes glancing to the monitor. “His heartrate is still really high, we can’t seem to calm him down.”

John nodded, “His partner said he has a fear of hospitals.” Walking over to stand near Alexander’s head. He brushed a few wayward strands of hair back, taking in his beautiful face, even with puffy red eyes and tear stained cheeks. Those mesmerizing eyes flickered open, John nearly drowned in them. “Alexander, you remember me right?”

“Con—stellations,” came his breathy reply. “John.”

John smiled, slipping Alexander’s hand into his. It was smaller, fitting nicely within his own. “That’s right. You are safe here. You see the girl with the yellow headband? That’s Peggy, she’s a friend of Lafayette.”

“Lafayette,” Alex mimed, a smile flickering onto his face.

“That’s right. Over on the other side is Martha, she’s a good friend of mine. She’s going to give you something more for the pain now okay? When you feel a little better, you can talk me through what happened.” Alexander nodded his consent. “James in in the waiting room. He told me you don’t like hospitals, but I won’t leave you alone. It’s you and I, alright?”

“John,” Alexander sighed, almost in relief, grasping his hand tightly. John never wanted to let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how hospitals run because I don't work at one yet and I'm only just finishing up my second year of nursing school. I've been a patient plenty of times though. Let me know if anything is off. 
> 
> Dr. Samuel Kennedy was a real doc during the revolution and had been in close contact with Washington during Valley Forge. There were a bunch of docs, but I just chose one at random. 
> 
> Nerd time: If you don't know who Florence Nightingale is, you need to go watch the sappy movie I was put through in one of my nursing classes. Or just google her, might be more historically accurate. She was totally BA. Basically she was this elitist high society woman who wanted to be a nurse, which was not something that women of her standing did back in the 1800s. Basically the A.Ham of nursing, publishing over 200 books, reports and pamphlets. She started the first professional school for nursing, also established the first school of midwifery (at King's College Hospital) and inspired the formation of the International Red Cross. She never took no for an answer, basically reinventing what nursing was and is still a HUGE influence today.


	7. VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander is admitted to the hospital

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Sorry for such a late update. I probably will never stick to a set schedule but I hope to update every week, but with my life who the hell knows. I probably will not be updating anytime during this next week because of finals. Thank you all for the sweet comments, they honestly make me day! I'm pretty sure this chapter is pretty crappy but it will have to make due. Let me know of any mistakes my sleep deprived brain missed. 
> 
> I also had Alexander fall sick and experience the hurricane earlier than in RL. It just fits better to the story line. 
> 
> **Warnings for slight abuse and panic attacks.

John stayed by Alexander’s side throughout the entire procedure. Even after a dose of anti-anxiety medication to him relax, he still seems anxious, not letting anyone near him unless John stood at his side. Alexander refused to let go of John’s hands, holding on like a lifeline. While John did not mind, because who wouldn’t want to be glued to Alexander’s side, Peggy needed to hunt Flo down to let her know so someone could check in on his other rooms. He kept the gorgeous boy distracted as Kennedy worked, holding his hand tightly while brushing back lose strands of ebony. He talked about Hercules—John could go on and on about Herc given the chance—which seemed to make Alexander smile a bit, soothing him enough to stay still for the doctor.

Alexander’s ability to talk eased as the pain medication settled in, allowing him to speak in broken phrases of French and English. John only knew half of what Alexander said, but got a rather clear picture that seemed to match up to James’. He fell asleep in his own room while reading, panicked when he woke up and fell from the bed resulting in the injury. John tried to push, saying he noticed the bruises the previous night at _Reign_ , but Alexander shook his head, murmuring that it was indeed his fault, that he just fell twice, clumsy like that. John’s heart sunk at the admission. This was not Alexander’s fault, not by a long shot.

John only got a reprieve, not that he really minded, after the chest tube was in place and his boyfriends were allowed back into the room. John step back from Alexander’s side as they merged in on him, surrounding him on both sides. King clasped the hand John previous held while Sam and James gathered on the other side. He made himself busy with checking over the monitors, not ready to leave Alexander’s side quite yet.

“Lexi, my love? How are you feeling?” King asked, placing a kiss on Alexander’s forehead. "I am so sorry. They had the nerve to make us wait, honestly."

“We were so worried,” Sam added, fussing with the blanket that laid low on Alexander’s torso, placed there so it did not mess with the chest tube.

“Better,” Alexander said smiling, perking up at the attention from his partners.

George tsked. “Oh, my love, what a scar that’s going to leave.”

John resisted the urge to scoff at King’s comment. That boy was perfect, scars or no scars. “A scar is a small price to pay for being able to breathe, which is needed to, you know, live.”

King turned towards him, ready to snap at John for his comment. A flicker of recognition crossed his face halting any witty retort. “You were at my bar last night.”

Doing his best not glare and say _I told you so_ , John nodded. “Yes, I was last night. I also happen to be a nurse on Alexander’s case.”

“Can you tell us what happen? The doctor went so fast,” James interrupted, dark eyes jumping from King to John, knowing the latter knew this was not an accident. “I don’t think I caught everything he said.”

John eased out of jealous-angry-protect-Alexander mode and into his nurse mode, trying to regain some semblance of professionalism. “So, Alexander is suffering from a pneumothorax, most likely a complication from falling as well as his broken ribs. It occurs when air enters the space around the lungs. The doctor inserted the tube to help get rid of excess air inhibiting his lung from inflating. We will try taking it out after twenty-four hours and hopefully his lung will stay inflated. There is no sign of infection or anything but we did start him on an antibiotic to help keep the risk of pneumonia as low as possible. It’s common with broken ribs due to the shallow breathing caused by pain. We’re just being cautious, no need to worry about that.”

“Shouldn’t you wrap his ribs? Since they’re broken?” Sam asked, eyebrows furrowing.

“The use of bandages or compression wraps are not used anymore due to the increased risk factor of causing pneumonia. Limited movement and rest will help them heal,” John informed him.

“When will,” Alexander took a breath. “I be released?”

John smiled at him. “Depends on that lung of yours. Most likely tomorrow night or the day after.”

“Good. I wanna go home,” Alexander pouted, and God didn’t he just look adorable?

“We know darling,” James said softly, brushing his hair back before kissing him lightly on the lips. John watched as Alexander melted into the kiss before breaking it off, needing to breathe.

John’s stomach churned with jealousy. “If you guys don’t need anything else I’m going to go check on my other patients. If you find yourself needing something, just press your call bell. Either Peggy or I will be in to check on you.”

He hurried to make his escape, not wanting to watch the love fest between the four of them. Clenching his fists, John forced himself to take a deep breath. He could not let his emotions get in the way of his job, no matter how much he wanted to run back there, punch George King across the face, kick the three of them out of Alexander’s room and kiss the daylights out of him. But alas, that would not be professional and John slowly made his way to check on his other patients.

After an hour and no new developments or call bells going off, he sat down heavily in a chair at the desk, groaning a bit in relief of sitting. It felt like forever since he sat down last. Rubbing a hand over his face, he got down to business, typing to get done what he need for his charts. There was so much documentation in being a nurse.

“Hey Laurens,” Peggy called as she walked toward him.

“What’s up Pegs?” he answered, taking a sip of water for the first time since he gotten to work.

“Here’s Alexander King’s chart, I made my notes.”

John choked. _King?_

* * *

 

Alexander hated hospitals. He hated the way they smelled, the constant squeaking of sneakers on the too clean floors, the incessant beeping from the monitors. The blankets itched his skin and the IV stuck in his arm continued to be incredibly irritating. He hated doctors even more, pompous asses who thought they were holier-than-thou because they earned a fancy medical degree, playing God because they went to a few extra years of school.

He disliked doctors ever since one of them made his mother choose between medicine for him or her. Alexander had fallen ill at the age of ten, his mother quickly following suit. Most of it was a blur between his bones aching, his chest burning from non-stop coughing and a fever that just never seemed to come down. He and his mother curled up together on a mattress in the bedroom. His mother’s arms, which got thinner as the illness stretched on, wrapped around Alexander like she could give him her own strength to fight off whatever plagued the two of them.

When his older brother fetched a doctor after they both worsened one night, they were told there was not much he could do. The doctor offered a small dose of medication which did nothing in Alexander’s opinion except put coins in the pockets of the doctor, depleting a large portion of their already small savings. They could not afford enough for the both Alexander and his mother, who refused to take any of the limited supply.

His mother passed quickly after that, but Alexander lived. Maybe if they shared the dosage in that tiny orange bottle, or if he had not asked for the new book right before they both gotten sick. Maybe then his mother would have had enough money to buy more medication for the two of them and she would still be alive. He stayed clear of the doctors after that point, not wanting to deal with their greedy God playing ways. Any cold or virus that managed to find its way past his immune system he suffered in silence. Injuries were patched up with neosporin and band-aids.

When the hurricane hit, he was treated in a makeshift hospital. The tiny clinic that been on the island destroyed. The tents were not clean, didn’t smell like disinfected which made being within them a little more tolerable. But the moans of pain from his fellow islanders filled the air, wails of anguish over lost loved ones join the symphony. The doctors and nurses were sweating with the humidity in the air as they ran about trying to save as many people as they could. Somehow, Alexander at the age of twelve managed to survive the stormed that brought his home country to its knees. He was pretty banged up, but otherwise, he would live. Doctors and nurses kept fusing over him. He tried pushing them away, not wanting them to touch him. For some reason, the doctors saw him as combative and knocked him out. Keeping him in an induced haze where he could do nothing but lie there as they looked him over, making sure an infection did not settle in.

Word got around that Alexander did not have a family left to go to. It wasn’t quite true. His brother was somewhere in the tents with him, or so he thought. James survived the storm too, hadn’t he? It did not matter to the doctors surrounding him, who barely bothered to look for the other boy. Alexander was put on a flight to New York before he could blink, entered in the foster care system where he would waste away until he turned eighteen.

After a few rough foster homes who disliked his sharp tongue but like the money fostering him brought in until he voiced too many opinions and the bruise that litter his skin sparked rumors, he ended up with—

Alexander physically flinched, like something shocked him. He would not think about that. He could not think about that. He was not allowed to think about that. The monitor beside him spiked as his heart rate went up again.

“Lexi?” That was George, he was safe.

“Bad thoughts,” he whimpered, coming out of his head where he tended to get lost within.

It was much later in the day, around one. James and Sam were around the corner to grab some food for the three of them, hospital food was way beneath George King. George stayed however, much to Alexander’s delight. He never got much one on one time with George, never quite earning it as much as Sam or James did. Nor did he ever ask for it, not wanting to be a bother or burden to George who already did so much for him.

George leaned over his bed, sighing as he stroked his hair away from his face. “Because of this place? I would say this is not your fault, but...”

“I know, my fault,” Alexander agreed, hating himself. If just behaved, if he had just listened, all of this could have been avoided. He would not be in this godforsaken hospital.

“It’s okay love, once you are out and feeling better, you can make it up to me, okay?” George told him, smiling softly making his heart beat faster for a much different reason the previously. That smile always set his heart fluttering.

“Is everything okay in here?” Knocking accompanied the voice. It was John, his green eyes that kept Alexander in a trance as the doctor worked over him earlier, glancing carefully over Alexander and George. They looked curious, as if he was trying to figure something out. “I heard your heart rate pick up as I walked past.”

“Everything is fine,” George answered, an easy smile on his face. Alexander knew George did not like John Laurens, not after he confronted George last night at _Reign_. He ranted about him last night before locking Alexander in his room.

“Alexander, you feeling okay?” John asked him, ignoring George’s statement. Alexander saw George clench his fist which he knew was not a good sign.

“I’m fine, I got flustered by George’s smile is all,” he giggled, trying to distract his boyfriend.

“My love, you are too sweet to me,” George replied, squeezing his hand. He turned to Laurens. “Now, could you tell me when visiting hours are done?”

“NY Presbyterian does not have set visiting hours, you can stay with the patients as long you like. It’s been shown to help patients feel more relax which aids in healing,” Laurens explained.

“Good to hear.”

“Do you feel up to eating, Alexander? I’ll make sure it’s something light, easy on the stomach,” John asked, worry evident on his beautiful face.

“I could try,” Alexander said, glancing at George to make sure he was allowed.

George nodded. “You need to keep your strength up.”

“Okay, I’ll put the order in,” John said, hovering by the door, unsure whether to leave Alexander alone with George. “I will be back shortly.”

After a moment, he did leave, causing Alexander to a feel a little empty. Which was crazy since Alexander had three boyfriends who loved him endlessly. Why did he happen to be so hung up on John Laurens?

George whipped around towards Alexander. He gripped his wrist tightly. “How much does he know?”

“Ge-orge, hurts!” Alexander stuttered, surprised at the sudden turn.

“Alexander, what does he know?”

“He doesn’t know anything,” he got out, between breaths.

“Did you tell him something, Alexander?” George’s grip tightened, causing Alexander to whimper.

“No, s-sir.”

“You better not be lying,” George muttered as he let go of Alexander’s wrist.

Alexander had been with George for three years, loving every second he spent with the man. He met George when he was seventeen, a sophomore in college. Having graduated early from high school, his topnotch brain earning him a full ride to the prestigious Columbia University. Alexander always joked it was fitting that he met George, his king among men, at a college previously named King’s College.

They met in December, a month before Alexander turned eighteen. He’d been sitting in a cozy coffee shop on his third cup while furiously writing a paper for his World Economics class when George sat down across from him, causally asking his opinions on the economy of the US. Of course, back then at least, when Alexander started talking it was hard to shut him up. Alexander easily became enamored with the older man, looking forward to their weekly meetings.

When he returned from winter break for the spring semester, a few days after turning eighteen, George asked him on a date, introduced him to his partners and asked if Alexander wanted to be a part of their relationship. Alexander fell quickly for George, Samuel, and James, counting every blessing that he ended up loving the three of them.

“Where are Sam and James?” George asked, pulling out his cell phone to call the pair.

“Shouldn’t they be back soon?” Alexander tugged the cardigan Sam thoughtfully brought for him closer to his body. It smelled like him, citrusy from the expensive fragrance Samuel loved to wear, and much warmer the crappy hospital blankets.

“They should,” George answered, holding the phone to his ear. “But I want them back sooner. Ah! Sammy, where are you and James at?”

Alexander brows drew together in confusion. Had he something wrong again? Did George no longer wish to be alone with him? What did he do this time? Sam and Jemmy were obviously much better company than he. All he seemed to be doing lately was pissing George off. What good did he do anymore? Why would George want to be anywhere near him? The tube most likely would leave a scare on his chest. George loved when his skin mottle with different shades of blues and blacks before lightening to yellows and greens. But scars? George hated scars. He would not want Alexander anymore, not after this. 

“Ah, good. We will see you in a few then.” With the swipe of a finger, the call ended.

“George?” Alexander whimpered, his thoughts consuming him.

George looked over at Alexander, who was curling up into himself, eyes glassy with unshed tears. “Oh my dove, what has gotten you so upset?”

“You don’t wish to be alone with me anymore, I’ve upset you too much,” Alexander cried softly.

“My lovely boy, no. Now you know I love you till my dying days,” George said, wiping away some of the tears that fell over. “Yes, you are at fault for ending up in this place you hate so much. If you only behave like I ask of you. But I never want to see you this hurt again. I only want James and Sam here so I can go check in on a meeting. How am I to fill the library with books for you to devour if I am not making any money? Do you understand, my sweet?”

“Yes sir,” he whispered, leaning into the soothing touch.

“Look who I brought with me,” John announced as he strolled back into the room with James and Sam who brought a bag of food that smelled a hell of a lot better than the tray John held. John’s freckled face quickly fell as he saw the tears on Alexander’s pretty face. “Alexander, are you in pain?”

Alexander wiped away any remaining tears as John quickly busied himself with checking over his vital to ensure nothing was wrong. Alexander let out a soft giggle at his worrying nature. He supposed that’s one of the reason John was such a great nurse.

George shook his head. “I think the morphine is making him a little bit emotional.”

“Lexi’s always emotional,” Sam laughed.

Alexander pouted at him. “Am not.”

“Do not start you two,” George cut off. “Now I would like to go check in on work. If you two are going to bicker, Sam you will be coming with me. James, you okay to stay with Lex?”

“I’m good, George,” James answered as George put on his dark red coat, the gold buttons shinning in the bright hospital lighting. “I’m just going to run the bathroom real quick while the nurse is still in the room with him.” With a kiss on the cheek, James disappeared into the bathroom.

“We will be back before dinner to say goodnight. You cannot expect me to sleep in that god-awful chair can you? Love you, my boy.” George leaned in to kiss Alexander, soft lips meeting. Alexander leaned into it, ignoring the twinge of pain that came with the movement. George deepened the kiss for a moment or two, before breaking it off. His blue eyes swept over Alexander’s, taking pride in the dazed look on his face

“Love you too, George,” Alexander said as he left. Sam blew him a kiss from the doorway. He and Sam were known to bicker, butting head more than a few times. George was always quick to split them up, not wanting to deal with the headache. They did love each other, their differences and stubborn natures just got in the way sometimes.

“Well now that everything is sorted out,” John said, making himself known as he placed the tray on his bedside table. “Your vitals look okay. I have your food, obviously. Just let me check your incisions before you sit up.”

Clearing his throat, John leaned over to look at the tube placed in Alexander’s chest. Alexander watched as few curls spilled from the bun at the base of his neck, wanting to lift a hand to push them back from his beautiful freckled face. “I would like to advise you to refrain from kissing like that for the near future. Breathing normally is key right now.”

“Sorry,” Alexander murmured, blushing, the red staining his checks before spilling down across his slim chest.

John glanced up at him, eyes alight with flirty look Alexander remembers seeing the previous night. “I’m still right about you being absolutely gorgeous when you blush.”

Alexander just blushed harder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter we will see what the other half to the eventual polysquad is up to because I'm missing Herc and Laf something fierce.


	8. VIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Mulligan's

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for disappearing! I had finals the first week of the month and I had to waIT FOREVER for the results. I passed, thank GOd. But then I took the week off to rest from the semester and then my son who decided the best mother's day gift he could give me would be getting sick. 
> 
> So between constantly running out of tissues and trying to appease the cranky two year old, I somehow finished this. It isn't much, more world building than anything. Next chapter we will most likely go back to Alexander and John. Sorry to disappoint but George won't be getting punched in the face anytime soon, much to everyone's dismay. Eventually, don't fret!
> 
> No big warning for this chapter. Let me know if I need to tag though. Let me know of any mistakes, especially with misgendering Laf.
> 
> (thank you to everyone leaving comments and kudos and that are still reading, y'all make my heart flutter with happiness and joy)

In high school, many thought Hercules was destined to be a great football star with his gigantic frame and building muscles, still filling into it at the time. He would go on to lead his college team to victory, get drafted into the NFL and that would be that. His story set the moment he threw a jersey and stepped out on the field. Who cared if he continued to get straight A’s? Who cared if he enjoyed something other than sports? None of it mattered as long as he became king of the football field.

Herc instead, fooled them all when he found his niche within in the sewing room, happy among his fabrics, the thin spools of thread and whirl of the sewing machines. There he learned to stitch, sew, and design all while going against the social norm. Girls ate him up, guys looked at him strangely. The coaches hounded him every year to which he always politely declined, wishing they would just give up having no desire to play. He heard the whispers, that he was not living up to what he could potentially do on the football field, that he was “gay” and “should leave that shit to the girls.” No one ever said anything to his face, not with the muscles that stretched the sleeves of Herc’s shirts.  

He headed the costume department for the plays the high school put on and later did the same at Columbia. He worked for a rather older gentleman learning the in’s and out’s of the trade from him during his college years while interning on Broadway for costume design in the summers. He got his degree in fashion  design, and that summer began working towards opening his own tailoring business, eventually opening a small shop creatively name _Mulligan’s_. He dealt with enough Disney related jokes from his first name, no way in hell he was going to put that up on a sign, much to John’s dismay.

_“Come on Herc! You’ve got a chance of a lifetime here!”_

_Laurens and Mulligan were inside the small space that would eventually become his store. He brought his roommate along for another opinion on the space, another artistic brain never hurt. The store far from being anything spectacular, nothing huge or grand. But there was a space in the back large enough for him to spread out and do his alterations and creations. Another portion would be made into a dressing room area and a long counter that separate the back from the front sat waiting to ring up and book customers._

_The walls were bare, begging for color and the floors desperately needed to be redone. He and John decided on a rustic, upscale feel. Uncovered bricks lined the wall that separated the back from the front that he decided would be left alone. He would need to find furniture, perhaps a leather couch of sorts along with a few tables. The shop would come together, eventually. It was a bit farther than Lauren’s commute to the hospital but nothing outrageous, located in a busier part of Manhattan, a wealthier part too. He hoped spending more money on the rent meant he would attract higher paying customers._

_“There is no way in hell I’m naming my shop_ Hercules _, Laurens. Give it up,” Herc replied, having had this argument multiple times now._

_“But Herc! Just think!_ Hercules: Godly Alterations _. Your slogan could be “Going the distance, one stitch at a time!” Come on, Mulligan, you can’t pass this up!” John pleaded again, his beautiful smile spread across his face as he tried not to dissolve into giggles. “Oh! Or it could be “Making you go from a zero to a hero!” The possibilities are endless!”_

_“Make the puns stop,” Mulligan groaned as his friend lost his battle and dissolved into giggles._

Though the puns never did stop—Laurens apparently quite creative with them— the store eventually came together greater than Herc’s vision for it. His shop now filled with colors, fabrics of different shades and patterns all lined the wall so customers could pick and choose what they wanted. Dressing and fitting rooms veered off to the left, large mirrors placed within. Already created clothing lined the shelves and racks waiting for alterations. His own personal workshop in the back, hidden behind the brick wall he left bare except for the black sign exclaiming _Mulligan’s_ in a cursive-like scroll John drawn out for him. A refurnished brown leather couch he bought at a thrift store sat squarely in the middle of the shop on top of one the softest white rugs Herc ever touched.

Some of John’s art decorate the walls where there was space, different shaped canvases but only in shades of black, whites and browns. The small touches from his roommate and forever secret crush gave Herc a sense of peace and reassurance wherever he caught sight of one the exquisite paintings that in his eyes deserved to be hung in museums, not just his lowly shop. 

He was busy, constantly booked for tailoring suits closer the body of his customers, altering wedding dresses when the bride’s vision of the dress changed, and drafted to create prom dresses near prom season. Herc did not limit himself to just suits, dear God that would be boring. Any alternation needed, any design wanted—Hercules Mulligan was you guy. He often made designs from scratch, loving the look of amazement that came over his customers face when they tried his one of a kind creation. Herc got a few odd looks when customers came in, expecting a mousy or flamboyantly gay man waiting to take measurements like Hollywood always depicted tailors as. Instead they found Hercules, humble and hulking, but still waiting to take their measurement with the tape around his neck. He dressed in his own creations, proudly showing off what he his hands were capable of creating, sometimes donning his signature beanie or bandanna when pulled from the back of his shop.

He worked with a woman named Elizabeth Sanders, who preferred to just go by Lizzy. They met in college, connecting over loose threads and midnight deadlines fueled by whatever coffee shop was nearby. Lizzy went back home to visit family in Portugal and England the first year after they graduated, working for small shops while abroad. She came back and Herc offered her a spot at his shop, knowing her style and her work habits would mesh well with his as they did throughout college. The only other person that worked at _Mulligan’s_ was a talented college student by the name of Cato, a junior at Pratt Institute for fashion design. The boy worked hard, balancing his school work with the work at the shop. Herc secretly hoped Cato chose to work with them after he graduated but knew there was no way he would stick around, destined for greater things.

Cato was already at the shop when Mulligan walked in, long braids pull back so that he could work without them interfering, ear bud blocking out the silent store around him, which he pulled out when he caught sight of his boss coming through the back door. He wore a pair of pink pajama pants and Hogwarts t-shirt, which surprised Herc since Cato usually followed the dress code which never called for pajama pants nor Harry Potter appear, no matter how much he owned himself. “Morning Mulligan.”

“Morning Cato, you’re here early,” he responded, placing his bag down on the counter. “You’ve been here long?”

Cato hummed, stretching. "What gave it away? The pajamas or the stack of coffee cups in the trash? I need to finish up this dress a homecoming? Winter formal? Hell if I know, something like that. They’re gonna pick it up tomorrow and I have classes all day today plus a project for my Shapes and Forms class so I’ve been here a couple of hours.”

“Lizzy or I could have finished it, if you needed,” he offered, worried the boy might overwork himself. “Don’t stretch yourself to far, kid. You work hard enough.”

“Yes dad,” Cato sarcastically replied, rolling his eyes at the barely older man, plugging his headphones back into his ears

Herc flipped him for the comment while flipping the sign around on the door to open. They still got good foot traffic, as well as standing appointments already in the books. Paying more for the better spot turned out to be better in the long run. Lizzy would be arriving in an hour, claiming that eight in the morning was way too early for her to do anything other than roll out of bed. He settled himself behind the counter, dragging the appointment and deadline books toward him with a sigh. He didn’t have an appointment until nine, leaving him some time to start on one the suits that needed to be worked on for one of his clients, a congressman who always came to Herc for all of his suits.

Herc was about to pull the dark blue fabric needed for the project when his phone chimed.

 

**_Unknown number [08:17]: I hope it is not early to text you, but for once I am up before noon and I have been wanting to text you since you left the bar last night, mon chou_ ** **_❤_ **

 

Herc, functioning on John’s smoothie and a cup a coffee, was confused by the message. Who did he talk would call him “mon chou”? Who did he know that spoke French?  But then his mind caught up, and a blush danced its way across his face. Lafayette. The gorgeous bartender. John drunkenly given them his number and they actually texted him. He thought that napkin would have ended up in the trash. He quickly changed the contact name. 

 

**_Herc [08:18]: not too early at all. morning to u Laf_ **

_**Lafayette [08:18]: oh good! I dnt have to use proper punctuation. Youre not one of ~those~** _

_**Lafayette [08:18]: morning to you to! Glad you recognized me** _

 

Hercules blushed at the kissing emoji Lafayette attached with the message. Since when did he act like teenager texting his crush for the first time?

 

_**Herc [08:19]: is there a reason you texted** _

_**Lafayette [08:19]: non. just to talk** _

_**Herc [08:19]: could you call then? I gotta get strted on a suit** _

_**Lafayette [08:20]: oui!** _

 

A few seconds later, an incoming call flashed on his screen and he quickly hit the green accept button.

“So, miss me too much already?” Herc asked, settling the phone on the bench next to him on speaker.

“But, of course!” Lafayette, quickly agreed, their voice rough and gravely, like they just woke up. Not ready for it, the beautiful sound sending shivers through him. Maybe talking over the phone wasn’t the greatest idea. How the hell was he supposed to focus on the suit when Lafayette sounded like sex as they woke up?

“You just waking up Laf?”

Hercules heard Laf stifle a moan, but not quite, as they rustled in what most likely was their bed. “ _Oui_ , I’m still in my bed. It is, how you say, quite lonely.”

“Between you and Laurens, the two of you are gonna kill me,” Hercules groaned slightly, trying to focus himself. He failed, the image of Lafayette laying in a big empty bed, curls spread wild and free over the pillow. Their perfectly sculpted chest bare, dark skin flawless while a pale blue sheet laid dangerously low on their hips, just asking to be ripped off. 

“What did _monsieur_ Laurens do now? You know I am always in for juicy gossip on our very adorable friend.”

“You just want me to paint you a pretty picture, dontcha Laf?” Herc teased.

Laf scoffed. “I do not know what you are talki— _oui, s'il vous plaît_ paint me the finest picture mon cher.”

Hercules laughed. “We fell asleep on the couch, which ya know, we do quite often. Especially when we’re drunk. We probably should just move a bed out there.”

“You could do much more than sleep, non?” Lafayette implied. The smirk on their face almost audible.

“Shut it Laf,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, John—shirtless John might I add because why would John ever wear a shirt? It’s not like I don’t do the laundry. I know there are some clean shirts in his damn drawers—he had to get up early for work but he felt so good up against me. And I wasn’t fully awake, and I’m a little… _ya know_ in the mornings so I started to kiss his neck. _Fuck_ , he has so many freckles Laf. They're actually everywhere; down his neck, across his chest and trailing down... Damn, he's just so beautiful. He didn’t object when I kissed him but God, I could have kept him there. Screw our jobs. Screw everything else. I just wanted to hold him and make up for the seven years we didn’t spend kissing. He ran off to the shower though. Took everything in me not to follow, because can you imagine? John, naked, wet and…Jesus.”

“ _Mon chou_ , what I would not give to be a fly on the walls of your home,” Lafayette responded softly, a little breathless.

“You better not be jerking off, Lafayette.” The thought making his own pants tighter. Hopefully Cato's music was loud enough to drown him out. 

“So what if I am? “So what if I am? _Penser à vous deux ensemble est magnifique,"_ the french rolling off his tongue in the most sensual way. 

“I have no idea what you said but you can whisper French like that to me any day. I knew you were going to kill me,” Herc groaned while Lafayette’s laughter rang clear through the phone. His phone ding then he looked over to see a message from John on their messaging app they used, strange since his roommate did not usually text during his shifts. “Hold on. Speak of the devil, Laurens messaged me."

 

_**JLau: so i can get in some SERIOUS shit for this** _

_**JLau: but did u know alexander’s last name is king?** _

_**JLau: as in the asshole who beats the shit out of him king** _

 

“I think Alexander is in the hospital,” Herc murmured to Laf.

“ _Mon petite lion_ is in the hospital? How do you know?” Laf responded quickly, worry evident in their voice. All humor and teasing nature of their previous conversation gone.

 

_**Hunkules: is alexander in the hospital?** _

 

“John just asked me what his last name was and he’s at work. Did you know it’s King?” Herc asked them, dumbfounded that he never knew the young man name. Of all the conversation they had, he did not recall ever getting Alexander’s last name.

Lafayette paused, hesitating. “I am uncertain of why he uses King’s but I did know he goes by it. James and Sam go by their last names however. It is just Alexander that does it. I do not think that the two are married. Alexander always calls King his boyfriend.”

“But why would he go by it?” Herc asked again, utterly confused.

 

_**JLau: again serious shit but yeah. stable. may be late so i can stick with him** _

_**Hunkules: can we come see him????** _

_**JLau: we?** _

_**Hunkules: Lafayette and me** _

_**JLau: THEY TEXTED YOU?!** _

_**Hunkules: MISSING THE POINT LAURENS** _

 

“Hercules, you have gone silent. Is our Alexander okay?”

“John says he’s stable. He could get in some serious trouble if anyone knew he was breaking HIPAA violations. But he didn’t say what happened, just stable.” Herc rubbed his face. He just hoped John could hold his temper or he wouldn’t be losing his job from just violating HIPAA. Lauren’s had a temper on him, finding fights like he was born to do so. Herc pulled him away from plenty of fights, cleaned up his face multiple time.

 

_**JLau: rt rt my bad** _

_**JLau: the asshat is still here. so are the two others. if they all leave ill let u know** _

 

“Laurens says we can come if asshole leaves,” Herc told them. “I just hope John doesn’t punch King in the face.”

“I thought he was going to punch him last night,” Laf agreed. “I would have given him a free shot if he did.”

“Do not encourage him Lafayette.”

“It would not be encouragement, rather a reward shall I say?” Laf countered.

_“Is there a difference?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've also took some time to find some people that I image the rest of the characters to look like. Martha Manning as Kiersey Clemons, Florence Nightingale as Yasmine Al Massri (especially as Raina Amin in Quantico), Cato as Chris Lee from the Chicago Hamilton cast ( I also did not give Cato a last name since he did not have one or his was never record or given one since he was a slave. I also had no idea what to give him as a last name so lets just gloss over that fact), and Elizabeth Sanders as Madeleine Mantock. If anyone was interested. 
> 
> Translations:  
> Mon chou: sweetie  
> Non/Oui: no/yes  
> Oui, s'il vous plaît: yes please  
> Et penser à vous deux ensemble est magnifique: And thinking of you two together is gorgeous  
> Mon cher: My dear  
> Mon petite lion: my little lion


	9. IX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another day in the hospital

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Nervously pushes publish*
> 
> Hello there, sorry for disappearing. I've had this chapter open on my computer for while but I haven't had any desire to do much of anything. Things haven't been quite going well and I haven't been really feeling well but its starting to look up and I finally had motivation to finish it. I got a job! I'll be working as in an emergency trauma center as a clinical assistant which really turned things around for me. I wont bore y'all with the rest of the details of my life but I promise I'll try to do better with the updating. 
> 
> Thank you too all who commented and hit that kudos button for me, it brighten my world!!
> 
> I promise we should be getting out of the hospital scene soon. It isn't much but it explains a little bit about a few things. Let me know of any mistakes, I take any and all help--especially on my sleep deprived state of being. 
> 
> Trigger warnings for abusive memories, panic attacks and more of George being a dick. Oh and my horrible google translated phrases.

Alexander’s day passed in a drug induced haze, dozing off at random intervals only to be awaken by the nurses. Well, one nurse in particular. John Laurens came in and out throughout the day frequently, a light teasing smile present on his face that sent Alexander’s heart racing while red quickly spread across his cheeks. A few times, he woke to John leaning over his bed, his green eyes smiling down at him as he fought off the fuzzy feeling of sleep. John’s eyes were not just green but like the color of leaves in sunlight, grounding him to reality. Mixed in were shades of browns and blues, flecks of golds scattered throughout resembling a painter’s pallet that in it itself was a masterpiece, not just the painting which the colors were used for. The delicate swirl of bright colors left him more breathless than hole in his lung did.

Jemmy stayed with him, a luxury truly. The only place Alexander, Sam or James could to be without George was at their home. James sat next to his bed, warm hand gentle holding his hand as he read to him from a thick novel that he last seen on his nightstand. George sometimes got annoyed when he left his books lying around, disliking the clutter that Alexander happened to be prone to making. But his room was the only place that he could leave them lying open to the last page or piled in stacks on the floor without the fear of a reminder of how things should be put away, not left about.

James’ voice soft and even, a gentle breeze across the top of still pond as he read aloud whenever Alexander woke up, soothing him with the words of another which helped distract him from the hell he resided in. Whenever a storm passed through Manhattan, James would always collect him and a book, reading to him so Alexander could distance himself from the memories of the hurricane that destroyed his childhood home.

George would be coming back soon, to say goodnight before returning to their home. The thought of being alone sent his heart racing. Hopefully John would be able to give him something to knock him out. James’ soothing voice and John’s brilliant eyes were the only reasons he stayed calm throughout the day. The pain killers might have played some role, but the tightness in his chest disappeared while the two of them were near. No racing heartbeat or reverting to his native tongues. No hazy fog that left him even more panicked then the thoughts that consumed him. Just a little uneasy which he could easily ignore when he slipped back under.

Selfishly, he thought John could stay with him, clinging on to whatever comfort he could find. He knew George would never allow James or Sam to stay. He already surprised Alexander when he left James with him for the day. But John was outside his rule. John could stay.

Confusion and guilt washed over him. Why was he so addicted to this stranger? So attracted? They only met last night, over a small conversation and yet, Alexander felt so at peace with him. It felt as though they knew each other for years, a lifetime even, rather than not even twenty-four hours. The feelings akin to those that he held for his actual boyfriends. It did not make any sense, especially since he had George, Samuel and James. They were more than enough, more than he deserved. The thoughts were dangerous. They needed to stop.

He saw firsthand what happened when one stepped from the relationship, when loyalty wavered. The memory of the punishment bestowed on James caused him to flinch. He remembered feeling so awful, so unwanted when George placed James on his knees in front of the three of them and explained that James took another lover. What made James fall for another when he loved the three of them? The feeling of not being good enough for James crippled him. Worse than that, was how scared for James’ he felt because he never seen George so furious, so distraught. The look on George’s face as he ranted and raged made him want to flee. James made a mistake but did it warrant such extreme anger? Alexander remembers crying while George relentlessly punished James while screaming about having a sense of loyalty, about how George provided everything for him and this was how he repaid him. Alexander tried to leave the room, but a slap across his own face anchored him to his spot next to Sam as George seethed on and on, hurling insults as often as he hurled his fists. The image of James a naked mess of multiple fluids on the floor permanently seared in his memory. His soft voice gone rough, scratchy from screaming as he laid twitching on the floor mumbling an apology over and over while he awaited the rest of George’s temper.

George never found out who it was, something Alexander knew still bugged him to this day. James never spilled to George, no matter the threats. James loved this other person, and George was promising to kill them. It was the last time Alexander ever saw James in trouble, the last time his skin was darkened with bruises and blood spilling from his lip and nose. The last time George took him so roughly with careless, cruel hands. The slight scar on James’ lower lip, which he always caught James rubbing when tensions ran high, a small reminder that he was to behave, that he wasn’t supposed to even glance anyone else’s direction, that he belonged to George and no one else.

“Lex, are you all right love?” George’s voice broke through his haze, surprising him. How long had he been staring into space, lost within his own head? How did he not notice the arrival of his boyfriends? George and Sam both looked down at him, concern written on their beautiful faces.

“Just the pain meds,” he murmured softly, a smile coming to his face as George and Sam strolled closer to him. They were flawless as always, dress impeccably due to George’s seemingly never decreasing wealth. “How was work?”

“From the updates I got,  _Reign_  is running smoothly so far tonight. However, the work I was attending to was over at  _The King’s Men_. There was new hiring to take care of,” George said as he took a seat next to him, starting to go over certain details of the day, his larger hand grasping Alexander’s in a gentle hold.

Not only did George run  _Reign_ , a very successful and popular bar, but he also owned a strip club called  _The King’s Men_. When he first came into the relationship, Alexander loved the club, the beautiful men dancing, glistening under strobes of blues, red and a multitude of other colors. Tiny uniforms of red scraps barely left anything to the imagination. Flirty smiles combined with a lustful atmosphere made for a good night. The perfect party atmosphere.

As time grew on, Alexander started noticed more and began to hate the club. To the public,  _The King’s Men_  looked like a very professional club, run smoothly and legally. To the private eye, and to the many high paying customers George cater to, shady shit tended to happen. The dancers there were not there by choice, handled roughly by the employees. The back rooms did not know the word “consent.” Drug were in high supply and used daily. Usually managed by a man named Lee who always gave Alexander the creeps, his eyes straying too long and touches straying even longer when George was preoccupied.

The biggest reason he hated going to  _The King’s Men_ , hated the club’s existence in general, was the threat George always kept looming over his head: too many steps out of line, and that’s where his ass would land.

“I’m glad it went well,” James responded as he started to gather his things in to his bag, worried hands shaking slightly.

“How are you feeling?” Sam asked as sat down on the bed next to him, running his hand through Alexander’s hair. “Sorry for being an ass earlier.”

“It’s all right Sammy. I’m sorry too.”

Sam smiled at him before leaning in for a kiss. The taste of his cinnamon gum prominent as they gently kissed, his boyfriend being addicted to the flavor. Anything and everything that Sam could get in cinnamon, he did. Sam’s kisses were usually fervent, wasting no time before diving in, but this was slow, soft like Sam was afraid he would break Alexander. Alexander savored it, loving the compassion rolling off of him.

“At least your lips are in full working order,” Sam joked as he pulled away, making Alexander huff with laughter. “You never answered me though.”

“I am fine, Sam. I can’t feel a thing yet. Pretty drowsy,” he answered, trying not to roll his eyes. George did not like when he rolled his eyes.

James hummed in agreement. “He’s been in and out of sleep all day.”

“I am sure they will keep you on it through the night, sleep is what you need right now Lex,” George reminded him. “I would love to stay longer but traffic is already going to be bad and I’m quite tired.”

Alexander nodded. “That’s okay, I understand.”

“What a good boy,” George whispered, Alexander’s heart fluttering at the praise. He leaned in to steal a kiss, much more forceful than Sam’s. A claim, a stamp, a reminder. He pulled away a centimeter, minty breath soft against his lips as George spoke. “You behave or there will be hell to pay. I will not have you sully my reputation while you are in here.”

“I’ll be good, sir, I promise,” Alexander said quickly, eager to prove himself.

“I’ll be back tomorrow morning. Love you, Lexi,” George replied, as he pulled away. Sam kissed him again before James kissed him, lingering for a second before following George and Sam out the door. The room fell strangely quiet, James’ voice no longer reading words aloud. Alexander’s anxiety slowly starting to increase. The crushing weight of it settling on his chest as the feeling of being unable to breathe came back.

He shouldn’t be so selfish. He should be able to lay in the bed quietly without panicking. George didn’t have to come back but he did, because he loved him...right? It shouldn’t matter how long he stayed. He came and saw him because he loved him, because he promised Alexander he would be back.

George worked all day, he deserved to go home and rest. Alexander deserved to be alone.

But the selfish part of his mind cried out for the company of his beloveds. Couldn’t he stay? Or Sam? Or Jemmy? George let James stay during the day, would letting him stay the night be any different. They knew his fear, a stupid one but it wasn’t something he could control no matter how hard he tried. It was selfish, so so selfish. But he wanted them, god did he want them.  

“Alexander? Are you okay?” A voice tried to break through his haze. He knew that voice. It did not sound like the British lit of George, the higher tone of Sam, nor the calm voice of James. The slight southern accent made Alexander scramble for a name but with his mind currently in a state of chaos from the panic, he could not figure out the name. The voice was concerned, warm like sunlight after being in the shade. But he knew it, took comfort in it.

“ _Effrayé,”_ Alexander managed to whisper, as a hand stroked through his long, knotted hair.

“I’m wishing I took French in high school now,” the voice joked. “Just breath with me, if it doesn’t pass within a few minutes I’ll get you something to help okay? Just breathe.”

“ _Je suis…désolé._ ”  

“ _Cálmate, cariño_ ,” the voice replied in Spanish.

A wave of calmness crashed over him at the language. “ _Lo siento_.”

"Oh you understood me! You speak Spanish? If that is easier, we can speak that way. Can you tell me what’s wrong?  _¿Qué pasa?"_

“ _Me dejaron. No me gusta el hospital_.”

“ _Esta bien cariño_. Just take a few deep breaths for me okay. I told you, I won’t leave you.” The voice repeated itself in Spanish and Alexander let the language wash over him, gently lapping over him like the blue waves over the warm shores back on Nevis. The voice carried on, whispering soft praises, reminding him to breathe.

Eventually, Alexander didn’t know how long, he managed to focus on who the voice as panic started to ebb away. And of course, belonged to John Laurens, who always seemed to be there in his times of need.

“There you are. You were about a minute away from me grabbing something to settle you. I still can if you want,” John offered, brilliant green eyes overflowing with concern.

“No, not right now,” Alexander said softly, not needing to be more of a burden, enjoying the way John hand kept running through his dark hair.

“We will look at it again when it’s time for you to sleep,” John replied easily, still sitting beside him on the bed. “Do you need anything right now?”

“Why are you still here?” Alexander asked instead of answering. Wasn’t his shift running a little late?

“I get off at eight, but I was sorta planning to stay a bit longer.” John scratched the back of his neck awkwardly as if he felt unsure about something Alexander did not know about.

Alexander’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why?”

“To make sure you’re okay,” John told him honestly. “And well, you may have more visitors.”

Hope swelled within Alexander. Could George be possibly coming back? Would Sam and James be returning along with him? It had to be one of his beloved boyfriends. Who else would visit him?

Before Alexander could ask who it would be coming, the doorway filled once more. Two tall figures, one with flowers overflowing from his arms and the other with a teddy bear that must have been picked up from the gift shop.

“ _Mon_ _coeur!_ ”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> French Translations  
> Effrayé: scared  
> Je suis…désolé: I am sorry  
> Mon coeur: my heart
> 
> Spanish Translations  
> Cálmate, cariño: Calm down, sweetie  
> Lo siento: I am sorry  
> ¿Qué pasa?: What's wrong?  
> Me dejaron. No me gusta el hospital: They left me. I do not like the hospital.  
> Esta bien cariño: It's okay, sweetie

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!!


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